Skin Deep
by ImprobableDreamer
Summary: 11 years after her brother's suicide, Caterina struggles to rebuild her life and ignore her dismantling mind. But if she is justifying herself to a psychiatrist in Arkham Asylum, what happened that stained her hands so red? How did a grieving artist become a serial killer?
1. The Last Letter

**Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

 _I know it's strange, but somehow, I think you'll believe me._

 _Everything I've been put through by the world, and everything I put the world through. I get the sense that you would never disagree, never judge, never hate._

 _But maybe this is wishful thinking._

 _You may be tempted at this point to stop reading, maybe you are afraid, maybe you think I'm as crazy as they say._

 _My letters are coming less regularly now. Do not panic. I am, as always, still here and breathing._

 _I did have a dream last night with you in it._

 _I still don't know what you look like, but I managed something up with how vividly you write, your words, your soul._

 _You were holding a gun, like the rest of the crowd, and smiling, you looked so beautiful in my blood. This time was different however because you didn't shoot me in the head. I begged you to stop, begged the world to stop,_

 _I begged and begged. The knife flashed daintily in the sunlight._

 _And the world, it did stop._

 _I usually wake up at this time, what more is there to see? But I continued to float through my dreams, blanketed in quiet, and at that moment a low laugh echoed from below me. I say laugh, it was more a growl of triumph than anything._

 _I cannot even begin to describe how afraid I was, not afraid in the usual sense, no, 'usual' isn't a word I use anymore. I was afraid because more than life and death, more than you, more than me;_

 _I wanted to see 'him' again._

 _The monster. The killer. He infected me to the very marrow in my bones, wormed his way into my mind, and tore through to my heart. I knew then, as soon as this longing hit me while I slept, that I would never be free of him._

 _If only I had never met him, I was almost normal._

 _But the thing is; I simply wasn't._

 _He told me himself, why he was so interested in me, because he looked into my eyes and saw_

 _something dark,_

 _something crazy,_

 _something like him._

 _I do not know if you even get these letters anymore since I haven't received a reply in about a year, but I need something to do, something to keep me from going mad, well, madder. I will continue to write until I die, which may be sooner then you or I wish it to be._

 _Then again, I don't know, I don't know why I am afraid. People tell you to be afraid, everyone usually is. But if I think about dying do you know what I feel? Nothing. That can't be right._

 _So, this may or may not be my last letter, I don't like breaking promises, despite everything I've done you can always count on me to be one thing._

 _Loyal._

 _I was to 'him' and I am to you. I've found myself foolishly going over our letters, laughing at your jokes, crying when your father died, I think I know you better than anyone._

 _I think I'm in love with you._

 _So, with everything I have and everything I am, I hope you are doing well, I hope you get that job, and I hope she says 'yes'._

 _-Caterina Anne Morgan, Containment Cell: 4C, Arkham Asylum._


	2. In The Wake

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

The paper was rudely ripped from her grasp, sending the plastic pen bouncing along the concrete floor.

"I wasn't done." She hissed angrily.

The security guard chuckled and carelessly crammed the letter into a manila envelope, his steely gaze never leaving hers.

"You got an evaluation, gorgeous, gotta' leave the bedtime stories for later."

He roughly hoisted her off the metal chair, his death-grip on her arm having no effect on the 'pain-filters' she'd turned on years ago.

The two of them left the meeting hall, and trooped down the long corridors of steel and peeling paint. Overhead, fluorescent boards of light buzzed like flies and added a strange, dream-like, flashing to the journey.

"The doc's been dying to speak to you again Kitty-cat."

She winced at the patronizing nickname and the unwelcome slap that met her behind. The guard laughed again, this one in particular enjoyed to play with her, to own her.

"I wonder if your wife knows you treat women like this." Cat remarked coldly, this earned her another slap and a growl of a response.

"You 'aint a woman Missy, you're just a psychotic bitch."

Eventually they turned into a door with a brass name plaque, 'Psychiatric Ward'.

"Enjoy, don't worry I'll be right here." And he grabbed her, in an unsavory place, before shutting the door between them.

The room was one she knew very well.

Two, large windows were hidden behind tan-colored blinds. The walls were of reinforced steel, the floor of a concrete that seemed to bleed cold through her meager white shoes. At the simple desk sat a woman with a mop of red curls and blood-red lipstick.

She looked up from her documents and nodded at the seat opposite her.

"Where's Doctor Palmer?" Cat inquired as she lowered herself into the plush seat, she didn't like how her feet dangled off the chair so she crossed them in her lap; not caring if the lady thought this odd.

"He was reported for assault, apparently he had been taking advantage of his patients in very unprofessional ways."

The lady said this with a quick glance up to Cat, regarding her curiously. Cat met her gaze coldly, she had endured sessions of Doctor Palmer asking her questions about her past love-life, to describe it in great detail.

She had punched him the first time he touched her, a black eye for a grope seemed fair; the guards didn't see it that way and beat her senseless when they found out.

"Like you care what they do to me." Cat muttered, tucking loose hair behind her ears.

The Doctor, who Cat read from her badge as 'Doctor Yvonne Huntley', removed her thick glasses and leaned back in her chair. Instead of replying she picked up the folder of documents and began reading its contents aloud.

"Born September 26th, 1990. Mother's maiden name: Sherlowe. A Libra. Five foot five, 119 pounds, AB+, born 23 Front St, Ruishton, England." She paused, looking up, "Eyes: green. Hair: blonde/black."

Cat rolled her eyes and drummed her well-bitten nails on the table, this Doctor was vexing her, avoiding the criminal charges, avoiding the counts of murder.

"Yeah," Cat nodded sarcastically. "My favourite colour is purple and I dyed the bottom of my fucking hair black, it doesn't matter."

Huntley held up her mugshot in response. The 'Caterina' in the photo had dark, painted eyes, black lips stretched into a grin, and half her head shaved with her scalp showing in the letter 'J'.

"You've changed."

The girl in the photo seemed to ooze confidence and crazy, now it was all crazy.

"Yeah." Cat muttered, trying to avoid the steely gaze of her psychiatrist. Huntley tucked the photo away and once again brought up a file.

"Let's see now," she tutted, pushing her glasses up her dainty nose. "Clinical depression, insomnia, schizophrenia, borderline-personality disorder, ADHD, anxiety, PTSD. Either your doctors got it wrong or you're really messed up in there."

"They change their diagnosis every few sessions."

She seemed intrigued by this and folded her hands beneath her chin, Cat thought that If this woman hadn't been a murderer's psychiatrist, she could make it easily as a model.

"Why is that? Why couldn't the doctors diagnose you with a mental illness?"

This question was harder to answer than the last, even Cat still struggled with this concept.

Eventually, she let out a low sigh and gazed out to the windows, where large drops of rain fell between the slats. "Because the only illness in my mind, is him, and he becomes whatever the hell he wants to be."

Huntley tried to comfort her, by lightly brushing Cat's arm, Cat recoiled at the touch and held herself away from further violations.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Huntley said sadly, her tone shifted to one of a more gentle variety.

"That's what Palmer said." Cat murmured, more to herself than anyone. They both sat in silence for a few seconds, recounting what they knew. Cat wanted to return to her solitary confinement with her messed up thoughts and body of bruises.

"This 'him' you mentioned," Huntley rifled through her papers as she said this, either to hide her discomfort or for legit reasons Cat didn't know, or care. "Do you mean Joker?"

A crack of thunder echoed through Cat's mind that had nothing to do with the weather. She felt the sudden flush of cold and hot race through her veins, like a shower turned so far to the heat that it felt icy beneath her fingers.

"No shit."

She tried to brush off the dread sarcastically, the only way she knew how. But Huntley caught her involuntary shudder, the vulnerability in her eyes.

"Do you still…care for him?"

Cat tried to shake her head, to snap 'no, of course not', but all that came out was a whimper of a response.

"I think, most of the time, I hate him."

"Most of the time?"

"When he wasn't around, it was effortless to hate him, but when he was with me, like second-hand smoke I couldn't help it, I couldn't help adoring him, obsessing over him." Cat wished this sounded less crazy than it did, but Huntley nodded in understanding and scribbled something in her notebook.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"I don't use that word with my patients, and no I don't think so. Just an addict."

"What? I never did drugs."

Huntley stood up from the table with her chair in hand, Cat watched her cautiously as she made her way over to her, placing the chair beside her and sitting down.

"Caterina, there's more than just drug addictions."

They were now a few feet apart, Cat could now see how Huntley carefully pinned her hair over her shoulder and pressed the wrinkles out of the coral button-down shirt. She tried so hard to look pretty, why?

"Here's what's going to happen Caterina," Huntley was talking again, clicking a pen, her voice melding nicely with the pattering rain. "You're going to recount everything for me, from the beginning, and then I am going to officially and correctly diagnose you."

Cat scratched her cheek nervously.

"Everything?" she echoed, Huntley nodded, making herself comfortable in the chair and readying for a long story.

It certainly was.


	3. Blank Canvas

**Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

It began as early as she could remember, or perhaps earlier; the nightmares.

Most of them involved her brother's unfortunate 'accident', or if you had any sense, his suicide.

There was no point, Cat often thought, no point in dressing him up in euphemisms and kind lies. Ashton didn't fall on his bullet, it wasn't a misfire right through his frontal lobe, it was seven long years of depression and distant parents.

Cat was thirteen when her brother never came home from his work as a cab driver.

Thirteen when they found pieces of his brain flecked along the empty alleyway.

Her parents home-schooled her for the next five years, bringing her up in the fields of art and psychology. She was, to them, a blank canvas just waiting to be brought to life and designed. They brought her up smart and ambitious, but the only comfort or compassion she was shown were rewards for good behaviour.

Trained carefully, like a greyhound.

* * *

"And when did you meet him exactly?"

Huntley tore her from the story, the rain was heavier now and thunder rolled above them.

"Not yet," Cat was slightly annoyed at her interruption, she had moved herself to the floor and was sitting with her legs crossed. "First there was Mark, and then Bruce. If you want to know everything then I suggest you let me recount everything with no interruption."

Yvonne twinged her lip before gesturing her to go on, Cat jerked her knees childlike, as the tale continued.

* * *

She met Mark at the airport on her way to Gotham. Ash had owned an apartment there, and Cat decided to move out from her parents' house at 18 and find her own way in a new city.

A half-Korean man had asked for her help finding his lost luggage, and with his chequered shirts and curly hair, she was pretty much already his.

Mark was incredibly sweet, gushing the entire trip to Gotham (surprisingly he was headed the same way) about his beautiful mothers who paid for his ticket, to chase his dream as a reporter. The two talked for hours, then the plane landed and somehow, they both arrived at Ashton's place together.

Cat was, at this time, fairly naive in terms of love, so she thought she had found it with him.

Days went by, weeks, months.

All the while she gave everything she had to the man of her dreams, he took it gladly.

Winter rolled onto Spring, and as these things do, the relationship faded. Cat was growing tired, tired of giving, tired of trying, somehow, he just wasn't worth the effort anymore.

It was almost a relief when she came home early one night, a stranger's clothes trailing up the stairs, a stranger's purse on the coffee table, a stranger in their bed.

Almost a relief, it still shattered her.

 _But this sob story is still crucial to the reason, the big question behind it all; why? Why did she let him in? Why did she kill all those people? Why does she no longer care?_

Cat found it difficult to realign her life, after all, she had never been alone in Gotham until she had dropped Mark's things from a two-story window and he disappeared from her life forever.

Now her heart was like Mark's laptop, smashed and scattered on the curb below.

Eventually time did heal her, or made it easier to pretend that it did.

* * *

Cat paused, looking up at Huntley who was engrossed in her notes.

"Well?"

Huntley was surprised to see that her face had fallen and her recount stopped.

"Well," she parroted her quietly, "now we begin the real story…another time."

Cat felt mentally and physically exhausted, going through her brother's death and Mark's heartbreak was more than she was able to stand.

"I see," Huntley hesitantly began to organise her notes, dragging her chair back to its original position behind the desk.

Eventually she voiced her implied concerns; "I don't quite understand yet, apart from your brother's death, there hasn't been a significant cause for cognitive irregularities, no mention of symptoms, nothing."

Cat gave a humourless laugh, her eyes cold.

"It wasn't an ongoing illness, he obliterated my mind in a few short months with nothing but an empty room and torture equipment."

This silenced Yvonne completely, what she thought was a simple case of Stockholm syndrome or schizophrenia, was rapidly unravelling to something darker, something far more dangerous.

It was this fear that brought her back to the room one week later, for the second consultation.

Cat was patiently, even excitedly, swinging around in her chair as Yvonne prepared her notes.

'Bipolar', she made her first diagnosis.


	4. Champagne and Introductions

**Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

The mansion was larger and grander than seemingly possible.

It was a marble monstrosity, with a black twisted gate and more fountains than one man needed.

Cat couldn't help but gawk as she made her way up the white staircase and through the double doors, blinking in the sudden rush of light exploding from overhead chandeliers and reflecting off the polished floorboards.

Bruce Wayne, billionaire, playboy, voted Gotham's most eligible bachelor four years running, was hosting a charity fundraiser to boost his ego.

At first Cat had denied her best friend when she asked her to go, there wasn't an easy way for her to abandoned work for an entire night. However, the promise of tasting expensive champagne and meeting this unbelievable man was too tempting to pass up.

A melodic sound of the small orchestra began to fill her ears as Cat neared the guest hall.

The party was occupied by men in suits, clinging to the arms of women draped in diamonds and cocktail dresses.

A sudden sense of inadequacy hit Cat full-force, as she was only wearing a backless, black skater dress, with a halter neckline and a simple silver pendent around her neck. Her brown hair was loosely tousled and daringly-dark lipstick exaggerated her self-consciousness.

She gratefully accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and devoured this nervously as she surveyed the room.

Lines of the charity's representatives stood near the exits, collecting bank account details and promises of payment from stingy guests.

Cat, seeing this as an opportunity to fit in, peeled a few substantial notes from her purse and handed them to an elderly lady with a permanent scowl, she accepted the money and curtly nodded at the under-dressed girl who arrived alone.

Couples and small groups flocked together making idle chatter, leaving Cat standing alone near a grand fireplace, wishing she hadn't come.

"Thank you for your contribution."

The sentence was directed at her, the first time all night, and Cat took a moment to realise.

"Oh." She finally turned to reply to the man addressing her.

He lounged coolly behind her, a hand in his pocket, a glass half-heartedly held. "I saw the donation you made, I just wanted you to know that it's appreciated."

The stranger had dark, slicked back hair, equally dark eyes, and fairly broad shoulders. He was undeniably handsome, but from his drawling tone and cocky air, Cat knew exactly who he was.

"Thank you, Mr Wayne."

He tipped his glass in her direction, she drank to avoid the fact that she was extremely intimidated by his presence.

"Don't take this the wrong way," He carefully removed the empty, sparkling flute glass from her fingers and replaced it with a full one from a nearby table. "I haven't seen you at one of these before."

"I...well," embarrassment flushed from her cheeks.

"I'm not exactly…on the guest list."

He didn't grow angry, as Cat expected him to, instead he smiled knowingly and took another drink.

"My boyfriend was," she piped up suddenly, still expecting to dodge accusations. "He works with your company, or he did…I'm not really sure anymore."

Bruce Wayne raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to the crowd.

"And is your boyfriend here tonight?"

"No, we broke up a few years ago."

"That's a shame." Bruce was flashing a contradictory smile, Cat returned it weakly.

"I'm Caterina Morgan." She extended a hand awkwardly, not sure if shaking hands was the proper way to introduce yourself at fundraisers, it seemed professional enough. Bruce hid a smile, took her hand and easily placed a kiss upon it.

"It's very nice to meet you."

This act surprised her, and looking around, Cat couldn't see anyone else meeting in this manner, there was an awful lot of handshaking, however.

* * *

The evening dwindled into night.

Cat had spent some time talking with Bruce, before he excused himself and made conversation with much older and more important people.

Eventually, clocks around the house began to toll midnight, and one by one, glittering guests filed out of the hall into the clear summer night. Bruce stood near the exit, shaking hands and thanking guests, a winning smile pasted over his face.

Cat finished her glass, one too many, and put it on a nearby shelf.

She was suddenly fascinated with how it caught the light of the overhead chandeliers, and proceeded to spin it between her fingers.

"I'm glad you came tonight."

The glass almost fell from her fingers as once again, Bruce managed to surprise her from behind, his footsteps were almost inaudible.

"It was a lovely party." Cat tried not to slur, somehow, she played it off.

It did suddenly occur to her that the hall was completely empty now, even the elderly man who had been tirelessly serving drinks was no longer occupying the giant room.

Wayne smiled softly, before brushing his fingers against her own.

"There's something about…." He trailed off, the way his gaze was so centred on her left her with a shiver. "It's your eyes, I don't know, I can't name it…"

The champagne had given Cat the courage, or foolishness, she needed to tangle her fingers in his and whisper an invitation in his ear.

It almost missed her attention how comfortable the bed was.


	5. What about Mark?

**Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Hi everyone reading this far, I love you! I know this story is a bit slow to start, but I'm trying to develop this character as much as possible.**

 **Huge 'thank you' to anyone reading, following, or expressing even a little bit of interest because it motivates me to keep writing.**

 **This chapter will be a short one, because I wanted to thank you all so much.**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

"This 'Mark' you mentioned," Yvonne Huntley rapped her pen against her black pencil skirt. "This would be Mark 'Solnick'?"

It was week four of the consultation, so far, she had made 3 different diagnosis of 'bipolar, insomnia, and borderline-personality disorder'. However, Huntley had scribbled these out as soon as they met paper, she just couldn't characterise Cat's mind.

"The one and only." Cat sang in reply, she was wearing her clothes inside-out as she said something about, 'they were so nice, the world should wear them too.'

Huntley believed she was making real progress with her patient, Cat's stories were now more detailed and she seemed to recount them as if they were happening all over again; and the way her eyes glazed over when she recounted, in her mind, they might've been.

"Mark Solnick? The case from 09?"

Cat began feverently nodding her head.

"The break in?"

"Yup." She popped the 'p'.

"The assault?"

"You said it."

"The double homicide?"

This time Cat stopped smiling, and started laughing.

"Well silly," she choked out between giggles. "We couldn't let that skank live."

Huntley took note of this strange and frightening reaction, it seemed that when talking about the crimes she committed, Cat reverted more than ever to the psychopath she was.

"What exactly did you do to that woman?"

The paper before her rendered a graphic murder, a bloody and inhumane act that Huntley couldn't imagine Cat to partake in, not the skinny girl singing as her chair spun in circles.

"Oh that," Cat said, waving her hands in a way that dared to suggest this killing was a trifle thing. "Well I'll give you a hint, if you bury a body under a dead dog, the police give you a 3-day head start."

Huntley swallowed the lump that involuntarily appeared in her throat, her palms grew oddly clammy as she recounted this. It was recorded that Mark and his wife had a Boston Terrier named 'Allie'.

"You sliced Mark's throat," there was a slight quiver in her voice as she recounted from the report, Cat made a hum of agreement.

"Hung him up and wrote 'laugh it off' on the wall, in blood."

There was a second hum, Cat's eyes grew strangely darker as she averted her gaze to the desk.

"And…killed the woman before burying her under the dog?"

This time Cat laughed again, the same odd blackness in her forest-green eyes. "Yvonne," she tutted, "I never said she was dead when we buried her."

One hour later, Yvonne Huntley was retching into a sink.


	6. Jokes On You

**Disclaimer:I do not own any of the Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Sorry for the late update, thank you so much to the reviews I did get from the last chapter, they were so positive it made me smile. Enjoy a super long chapter as a 'thank you' and (finally) an introduction for the Joker.**

 **Stay amazing XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

While Caterina was enjoying a new comfortable relationship with Bruce Wayne, the rest of Gotham wouldn't dare allow her a moment's piece.

She woke up early on a Sunday, and decided that she wanted, nay _deserved_ , to spend a little alone time with her boyfriend.

"Morning." He was bent over a newspaper with his head in his hands. He didn't even look up when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his temple.

"What's plaguing our city today?"

It was meant as a light-hearted quip, but the way Bruce sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, tugged the playful smile from her lips.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," his hunched figure remained unmoving. "Just, crime, it's a bit of a pain in the ass."

The cover of 'Gotham Gazette' lay on the table before him and was embellished with a large security-camera photograph. The man, if it truly was a man, had a mess of curly hair perched over a distorted face. The fabricated smile and ink-stain eyes seemed to break away from the paper and Cat was left transfixed, almost, in his coal-black eyes. Like a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake, it was a while before the paralysis wore off.

"Clown thieves?" Cat shook her head, laughing in mild disbelief. "A bit corny don't you think?"

When there was once again, no response, she regarded Bruce pensively.

"You're taking this rather personally. Leave crime to The Batman and have breakfast with your girlfriend."

At the mention of the infamous vigilante, Bruce managed a watery smile and finally overturned the newspaper and, with it, the disturbing image. He swivelled in his chair to face her.

"I'm sorry." He gently pulled her into his lap and rested his head in the crook of her neck. "You know I love you Cat."

She giggled as the warmth of his breath tickled her neck and didn't hesitate to intertwine her fingers with his.

"Just promise me," Cat murmured, pulling back so they were face-to-face. "That you won't let this 'Joker' guy into your head."

Bruce kissed her slowly, "I promise." He replied against her lips.

* * *

 _MEANWHILE_

* * *

"What the hell is this?"

Two burly Chinese men entered the wide room carrying a television and set it down at the end of the table.

Gotham's most notorious criminals were forced to meet after the burglary of one of their deposits, and they were promised a face-to-face meeting with Lau, their 'accountant' for use of a euphemism.

The television screen crackled to life and Lau, a Chinese man with a small frame and a brimming self-confidence, appeared, to the complete eruption of the room.

"Gentlemen please," Lau attempted, with heavy condescension, to lull the outraged crowd of murderers and thieves, the very fact that he wasn't there in person was enough to elicit a very agitated response. "As you you're all aware, one of our deposits was stolen. A relatively small amount; 68 million."

The horde eventually quietened and sat begrudgingly to address this, money was always a matter to be discussed.

"Who's stupid enough to steal from us," a large European man, known only as Chechen, barked from the front of the table.

Several quick responses were shot from around the group, but the new head of the Falcone family and thus highest in the food chain, Salvatore Maroni, demanded the men's attention with his commanding tone.

"A two-bit whack-job, wears a cheap purple suit and make-up. He's not the problem; he's a nobody." Maroni turned to the screen again. "The problem is our money being tracked by the cops."

There were murmurs of surprise ricocheted off the men and Lau betrayed a self-satisfactory smile.

"Thanks to Mr. Maroni's well-placed sources, we know that police have indeed, identified our banks using marked bills, and are planning to seize your funds today."

This time, everyone began to shout simultaneously and the men were thrown into momentary chaos. Lau looked on as if enjoying the anarchy, and took a substantial amount of time before he continued his speech.

"And since the enthusiastic new DA has put all my competitors out of business, I'm your only option."

At this, there was an unenthusiastic agreement from the company and Maroni netted his hands under his chin, considering the reliability of Lau's claims.

"So, what do you propose?"

"Moving all deposits to one secure location, not a bank, obviously no one can know the location but me. If the police were to gain leverage over one of you, everyone's money would be at stake. I have already moved the money, for obvious reasons I couldn't wait for your permission. Rest assured, your money is safe."

He added the final remark quickly, as the rabble threatened to begin an outcry again.

For a few seconds, the men were mildly discussing Lau's actions, before, from the back of the room, out of sight of Maroni and his gangster cronies, a cold laughter resonated.

The chortles grew harsher in volume and in menace until the entire room was filled and all eyes turned on the approaching figure.

The man had sweaty clown makeup obscuring awful scars that widened his mouth into a permanent, ghoulish smile. His purple suit and unmistakable appearance immediately established him to the men as the culprit who stole their money.

As if on cue, all the criminals reached for their guns and prepared themselves for an assault. Joker, however, made no move of hostility and continued to approach the table.

"And I thought my jokes were bad," his voice was nasally and drenched in dark intentions.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off." Growled the man immediately to his right.

But the man's muscle-clad bodyguard served no purpose in intimidating the Joker, who pulled a freshly sharpened pencil from one of his many pockets in response and slammed it on the table top. "How about a magic trick?"

Aggravated, the body-guard sprung from his seat and strutted over to the clown. A round of quiet chuckling followed his movements and the gangsters quickly labelled the Joker as 'outmatched'.

"I'm going to make this pencil disappear," he waved a hand with blood-stained nails over the pencil, as a magician would over a rabbit in a hat. When the bodyguard was about to seize Joker's arm to stab him with a brandished knife, the Joker sidestepped his lunge, gripped the back of his head and brought it crashing down, face first onto the pencil. There was a sickening crack, a thud as the body fell to the floor, limp, and the Joker turned to the shocked crowd with a grin.

"Tahdah! It's gone!"

A small puddle of blood began to pool at his feet, he kicked at it in an attempt to keep his shoes clean. "Oh, and by the way," Joker looked up again, unfazed by the scarlet liquid. "The suit, it wasn't cheap. You ought to know, you bought it!"

The man, who would have to send out an advert for a new bodyguard, stood up suddenly with white-clenched knuckles.

"Easy," Chechen's arm flew out, and with a commanding wave, he sat back down again. "I wanna hear proposition."

The Joker nodded at him in thanks, a gesture grossly unbefitting him, and proceeded to address the now uneasy crowd of gangsters.

"Let's wind the clock back a year," he licked his lips and paced around the edge of the table. "These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. What happened? Did your balls drop off? You see a guy like me-"

"-A freak."

The acidic remark sprouted from the bodyguard-less man, and for a second the Joker hesitated, grimacing.

"A guy like me-" He continued dangerously slowly. Then, as if a new thought had occurred to him, he broke off suddenly. "-I know why you choose to have your 'group therapy sessions' in broad daylight." The men murmured angrily, obviously disliking the sarcasm and condescension that Joker aimed at them. "I know why you're afraid to go out at night."

He paused for dramatic effect, licking his lips, his black eyes darting among the crowd.

"The Batman. Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately. Dent-?" He waved his hand, "-He's just the beginning."

Many of the gangsters began to nod at this, the new District Attorney and Gotham's own 'white knight' Harvey Dent may have been causing them trouble with his efficiency, but the trouble wouldn't end with him.

"And as for the television's so-called plan," Joker gestured vaguely to Lau, who was frowning, unsettled by the events taking place.

"The Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him squeal." Joker clenched his fists suddenly to emphasise this last word, "I know the squealers when I see them and…"

Once again, Joker gestured to Lau in the form of an accusing point. The television faded to black as Lau, sensing a switch in the power dynamic, disconnected.

"What do you propose?" Chechen asked, leaning back in his chair and was, despite everything, genuinely interested in this madman's plan.

"It's simple…we-uh-kill the Batman."

Jeers and shouts echoed from the sitting audience and Maroni took this opportunity to raise his voice again and challenge the Joker, "If it's so simple why haven't you done it already?"

"If you're good at something never do it for free." The Joker replied quickly, addressing him for the first time.

"How much you want?" Chechen asked, humour tinted in his remark.

The Joker looked down suddenly, contemplating the answer.

"Hm," he looked up again, a strange light in his eyes. "Half."

The laughter that followed was genuine and cold, as the men suddenly realised how insane he really was.

"You're crazy."

"No, I'm not." Joker carried the 't' between his teeth and proceeded to glare at the crowd still hiccupping laughter. "If we don't deal with this now, soon little -uh- 'Gamble' here won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma."

Gambol jumped up at this and moved angrily to the Joker, stepping over his dead body-guard and reaching into his breast pocket for his handgun.

"Enough from the clown!"

Noticing this, Joker casually opened his coat and revealed numerous explosives wired to his chest. The flashing bombs and heavily tangled electrical eqipment caused an uproar from the men and Joker wiggled his thumb, revealing it to be attached to one of the wires.

"Let's not 'blow' this out of proportion."

He couldn't help but smile as the terrified men slowly lowered themselves back into their seats, 'they put so much value on their own lives that it physically caused him hilarity.'

Gambol was the only man left standing, he attempted to look fierce and intimidating, but was eyeing the explosives with the same look in his eyes as the petrified men.

"Do you think you can steal from us and just walk away? It's going to take more than some dramatized promises to win our trust."

Joker shrugged easily, lowering his coat and readjusting the wires so they were no longer visible.

"What? You want tryouts? I gotta learn the secret handshake to get into your little girl scouts?"

"No," Gambol clenched his teeth as he let this remark slide. "68 million, you get it all back and we 'might' consider putting bets on you."

"Ah," he smiled sheepishly in response. "Regrettably, I may have used it all…it just kinda' went up in smoke." He waved his arms in the air carelessly.

Gambol didn't back down.

"Then you're going to get it back. It might be 'small change' but it's the price to pay for our trust."

"What trust?" Joker spat at him, "You don't trust each other, you would slit the throat of the person next to you for a few green notes, but this…" he grinned again at the discomfort displayed by the sitting men, who were now shooting each other distrustful glances and casually reaching for their guns. "This I'll do for fun."

"Who you gonna steal from?"

"Ah, stealing? Stealing is too easy. I'm going to kidnap someone," he clapped his hands together loudly as if suggesting an exciting new activity. "Kidnap. Ransom. Kill; You know the play."

Gambol looked back at Maroni, who nodded his approval.

"You wanna target Bruce Wayne then," Maroni piped up, his arms folded." That billionaire is practically a coin on the pavement."

Joker bowed his head at this, in a gesture of accepting his challenge.

"Caterina Morgan, that's his girl, you'll get the money no problem."

At this the Joker laughed again, a high-pitched and goose bump inducing cackle.

"No, no, no. She's not the one. The one Wayne really cares about? Rachel Dawes, old friend. Oh-," he addressed the looks of surprise and disbelief. "-I keep up with gossip."

"Whatever clown-face," Maroni was growing more and more tired of the Joker's antics. "Just get the money and don't get distracted."

The very thought of this occurring sent the Joker into fits of hysterical laughter as he marched out of the room.


	7. First Smile

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **I am in the middle of exams and finding time to write will be harder. I will still try my best to upload daily, so enjoy this chapter and please leave reviews, I love hearing from you.**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Bruce and his butler, Alfred, were hard at work planning the fundraiser when Cat got home.

The design studio was only a few blocks from Wayne's penthouse, and she had spent the entirety of the 10-minute drive, dreading that evening's party. She didn't particularly like Bruce's choice of company, nor did she enjoy being the willing victim of condescension for an entire night.

"I think your fundraiser will be a great success, sir."

Alfred was happily supervising the menu and guest lists as Cat stepped out of the elevator, heard this, and immediately wanting to ride down again.

Bruce turned and caught her obvious reluctance, "I know you said you don't like some of these people-."

"-Hey, that's not true," Cat shrugged of her coat and entered the livingroom, "I said I don't like 'any' of these people."

"But, "Bruce continued, ignoring the comment, "Dent needs this."

As irritating as this was, he was right. Harvey Dent would be running for Mayor in a few years and this fundraiser would greatly assist his campaign.

"Well," Cat begrudgingly agreed, "I guess I better start getting ready."

"Hard to believe you could look any more beautiful."

She shook her head, damning his flirtatious capabilities, and allowed Wayne to kiss her before she turned to the bathroom.

"Will Miss Dawes be attending?" Alfred asked innocently from behind a list of plans. This should've been passed off as a trifle inquiry, but the way Bruce suddenly averted his gaze when she turned left Cat perplexed.

"Who's Miss Dawes?"

"Uh," Wayne scratched the back of his head, "Rachel, she's just an old friend."

"Bruce? Don't lie to me."

Despite her gentle tone, her steely expression and pursed lips were nothing if not accusatory.

Unfortunately, the incident involving Mark had left Cat untrusting and she always expected to come home one day to see some swim-suit model in bed with her boyfriend.

"Trust me," said Bruce, kissing her again. "You have nothing to- "

He trailed off, staring over her shoulder. Alfred had turned on the television to the news channel, where a graphic sight was being filmed on news camera footage.

"Oh my god," Cat's hands flew to her mouth. "Is that a person?"

The screen was framed by the loud letters 'BATMAN DEAD?' A man in a 'Batman' costume was swinging gently, hung from a flagpole with a demonic grin painted over his face. Cat felt her stomach churn as Bruce turned the volume up, his face rigid.

"Police released video footage found concealed on the body. Sensitive viewers be aware: it is disturbing." The news anchor vanished from the screen and grainy, handheld footage took his place.

"Cat," Bruce murmured, "maybe you want to…"

"-Like hell," she replied quickly, sitting down on the leather couch for a better view.

The same hanging man was tied roughly to a chair, the small portion of his face visible under his mask was bloody and ridden with bruises. Cat could tell by the fluorescent lights and hanging pig carcases, that it was some sort of fridge or storage room.

"Tell them your name." Teased an unsettling voice.

It suddenly occurred to her that this drawl belonged to the 'photographed thief' that made her so unedged, it was a little harder to breathe.

"B-Brian Douglas," The man managed weakly. The camera advanced towards him, shaking menacingly.

"And are you the real batman?"

The Joker, as the headlines named him, was simply mocking Douglas, drawing out his death and sending a cruel message.

"No."

The man seemed on the verge of tears, blood ran down the side of his face and Cat almost left the room, visions of Ashton's own blood and the terror frozen on his corpse struck her. But Joker was speaking again and Cat was glued to her seat.

"No? No?" Joker laughed, shaking the camera, "Then why do you dress up like him?"

The make-shift mask was wrenched off his head, revealing several more bruises and a deep cut along his temple. Joker shook the rubbery mask in front of the camera in a comical way, singing loudly.

"Because…He's a symbol that we don't have to be afraid of scum like you." Cat couldn't restrain the sound of distress that escaped her lips.

Brian Douglas was obviously extremely courageous. Foolish, but courageous nevertheless.

"Yeah. You do, Brian," Joker said with mock sympathy, his purple-gloved hand shot out and lurched Douglas' head back by his hair. "You REALLY do!"

He began to whimper again and Joker shushed him quickly with a strange caress of his cheek.

Cat glanced over to Bruce, who was anxiously fidgeting with the remote, but otherwise displaying little to no emotion.

"So, you think Batman's made Gotham a better place? Hm? Look at me."

Brian decided that his final act of defiance would be to pointedly stare at the concrete ground.

"Look at me!" The Joker's unexpected shout made Cat jump in her seat. Brian's head lolled back slightly just as the camera turned.

The chalk-white face looming from the television sent a trickle of dread down Cat's neck. He had blood-red lipstick smeared over his scarred face, but even more disturbing, was that Cat was able to distinguish that this psychopath, without the horrid makeup, would've achieved some level of handsomeness.

"You see, this is how crazy Batman's made Gotham. You want order in Gotham…" He licked his lips in sick triumph, "Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and every day he doesn't people will die."

Joker smiled to the camera, revealing a set of yellowing teeth, and brought it close to his disfigured mouth. "Starting tonight, I'm a man of my word." And he broke into maniacal, ear-splitting laughter while the camera spun out of control.

Cat and Bruce stared in silence at the black screen for a few moments, she was glad that he'd turned it off, but also strangely fixated on how it would play out and what exactly Joker would do to 'Brian Douglas'. She wondered, suddenly, why she was more curious than disgusted.

"I-I think you should start getting ready." Bruce managed eventually, his voice thick.

Cat made no objection this time. She was terrified, terrified for that poor man who must've met a dreadful end, but more terrified that she wanted to know exactly what that 'end' was.

* * *

The hostage video played on repeat in Cat's head for the next few hours.

Brian Douglas and his reckless heroism plagued her thoughts and she sat, for a long time, staring at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She was already wearing her black satin and lace evening dress that cost more than she would've liked, and matching black heels that would become less of a good idea the longer the night wore on. Her hair was braided delicately and pulled back around to an elaborate bun that almost reached her neck

In short, Cat was substantially uncomfortable.

In a few minutes, people would start to arrive and Cat hadn't even finished her makeup.

The red lipstick hovered over her lips, her glittery 'Smokey-eyes' were glazed and lost in thought.

It was that Joker's face, his awful makeup, his horribly scarred mouth, and yet she had called him handsome.

Handsome.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Tears of shame prickled in the corners of her eyes and she began to paint her lips with a shaky hand. The bottom lip was effortlessly curved and beautifully completed. But somehow, it might have been the distracting events of the day, Cat's hand slipped on her top lip and a brilliant red streak stretched itself from her mouth, up to the bottom of her cheekbone.

There it shone, like a mark of defiance, a mark of crazy.

"You almost done sweetheart?" Bruce knocked on the door lightly and Cat was snapped back to her senses.

"Almost." Her voice was shaky and clearly disturbed.

She snatched a tissue from the counter and began to scrub, almost obsessively, at her cheek. The lipstick stain was replaced with an angry red mark as her skin punished her for the mistreatment.

Despite her reassurance, the bathroom door opened and Bruce walked in, a glass of champagne in each hand. "The guests will be arriving soon."

He handed one of the sparkling glasses to Cat, who took it with a tremor.

Bruce frowned at her cheek and didn't hesitate before he picked up a nearby bottle of foundation and corrected her mistake.

"When did you learn how to apply makeup?" He laughed in response and finished with a dab of powder.

"I dated a makeup artist for a few weeks, you pick up a thing or two." When he was satisfied with his work, he returned the foundation to her bag and helped her out of the chair by her hands.

"There," Bruce smiled. "You are beautiful."

Cat tried her best to mimic his genuine smile, but she was troubled by the lipstick. She had been applying lipstick for years, and drawing a deranged 'half-smile' had never happened before.

A chime indicated that the elevator had arrived with guests and Bruce hurried off to welcome them.

It was a few moments before Cat realised the red lipstick was still clutched between her fingers.

Suddenly furious, she aggressively stabbed it onto the sink top and turned. There was a clang, as metal met tile, and the innocent golden tube rolled forward, gently bumping against her glossy heels.

Cat refused to look at it, despite the growing feeling of dread in her stomach, and strode out of the bathroom to join Bruce greeting the guests.


	8. Here's To The Misfits

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

The second that Cat entered the party, several strangers with dripping diamond necklaces and crisp suits glided over to her.

"Miss Morgan," An elderly gentleman with a snowy beard shook her hand vigorously. "So good to meet you, I'm sure that as 'Mr Wayne's lovely girl', you would convince him of the benefits of our corporation. You see, our trust fund is of a whole new creation- "

"Ah, Mr Labowski, I see you found my girlfriend."

Bruce stepped between the two of them, taking Mr Labowski's arm in a firm grip and shaking it professionally.

Bruce directed a subtly nod at Cat, she smiled gratefully and took this rescue as an opportunity to turn and run for the buffet table.

After a few salt and pepper shrimp skewers, the party suddenly didn't seem so horrible.

She was halfway through a 'grilled scallop wrapped in Spanish ham', when a woman in a pretty green gown walked over.

"Hi, Caterina?"

Her mouth was full, so she smiled awkwardly and attempted to recognise the girl in front of her.

"Oh, I'm Rachel."

Cat swallowed quickly, dropping the friendly facade. Rachel was prettier than Cat would've liked. Her mouse-brown hair was tied up in an elegant 'side ponytail'. Her eyes, of course, were blue and rimmed with dark lashes.

"Bruce has told me so much about you." Cat lied, smiling falsely. For some reason this remark made Rachel's own smile waver.

"Then I hope this isn't awkward."

Cat frowned, perplexed.

"W-why would it be awkward?" She asked, laughing nervously.

Rachel shrugged a shoulder and crossed her arms, obviously uncomfortable.

"It's just that with Bruce and I dating for a while- oh don't worry I've moved completely." She attempted to reassure her when Cat's face darkened and her lips pursed. "I'm dating Harvey."

Rachel nodded to a handsome man in the middle of the crowded room. "And hey, if Bruce ever hurts you come to me, I'll straighten him out."

The smile meant that Rachel was reassuring her, attempting to form some sort of friendly bond.

But Bruce reassured her that Rachel was just an 'old friend', why would he lie if it truly _was_ over between them?

Cat grabbed a second glass of champagne and downed it remarkably quickly. When she looked up to face Rachel again, another person was at her side and smiling down at Cat; Harvey Dent, with his perfect blonde hair and kind grey eyes.

"Mr Dent," Cat was genuinely happy to be meeting him and was, this time, the enthusiastic one to shake his hand. "All that work you did with the case, you locked up Salvatore Maroni, not to mention 549 felonies, and the way it passed as 'conspiracy' is just…"

She trailed off, realising that her babble would be too quick to be understood in any shape or form.

"Hey, I'm just doing my part for the city." Dent responded with a charming smile and he slipped an arm around Rachel's waist. "Protecting the things I love isn't work…it's a privilege."

Rachel was smiling at him with wistful eyes and Cat realised, rather unexpectedly, that she had never looked so hopelessly in love, so impossibly infatuated, as Rachel was in that moment, not even with Bruce.

"Excuse me for a moment." Cat turned around again and tried to escape, but there were so many people, so many crowding bodies and loud conversations. It was thrashing about inside her, the scream to get out.

To breathe.

To find somewhere quiet.

To be alone.

It rose up her throat and down again like a vomit of insecurity. Cat elbowed her way through the crowd, the bathroom being her target for release. The glass of champagne was clutched so tightly between her fingers, her knuckles were white, her mind was racing and something was pushing against her throat.

Then it all stopped.

* * *

As if someone had pressed the mute button, the blaring party was nothing more than a muffled hum.

The edges of her vision were oddly blurred and dark, like she was viewing everything from below water. Her breathing pattern steadied, and she managed to turn back to the party, her mind wonderfully numb.

Cat was aware, vaguely, of someone calling her name. It was low and quiet, like the breeze, and didn't even cause her to blink.

Instead she was distracted by a man a few feet in front of her. He had his head bowed, his hands in his suit pockets. Around him, party goers were laughing and drinking the night away but the man simply stood.

She thought it odd, until finally he began to turn.

Slowly.

Dreadfully slowly.

The eyes struck her first, coal-black and smudged with inky paint.

Her breath caught in her throat and she choked on it, while the man's red-smeared mouth stretched itself into a demonic grin.

"It's him!" She tried to shout, but the words, much like her own breath, were caught between her chest and her mouth.

"It's…." Cat dropped the glass she didn't know she was carrying and wondered why the guests were all looking at her rather than the psychopathic murderer that was now doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down his eyes and diluting the chalky paint.

"Someone has to stop him."

She tried to pull against the force that was holding her near the bathroom, it was clutching at her arm and yelling at her loudly. "Someone has to- "

"CAT!"

She was roughly pulled to the ground, slipping on her heels and landing painfully on her behind. The room slowly re-entered focus. A crescent of bystanders had formed in front of the bathroom, the entire party was staring at her with shocked and appalled expressions.

The Joker was no longer among the crowd, and Cat slowly began to realize that he was never there to begin with.

"Caterina?" Bruce was kneeling beside her, a hand on her arm and face of concern.

"I-I'm okay." Her voice shook, "I just…my brother."

She felt an intense wave of guilt while using her own brother's death to excuse her fit, but Bruce was convinced and he released her arm.

"Don't worry everyone," He turned to the now gossiping crowd. "She just got a bit overwhelmed, show them a smile sweetheart."

And she did, a small, pathetic excuse for a smile.

"I think I need some sleep." Cat turned back to Bruce once the majority of the observers had departed. "Mind if I bow out?"

"Go ahead." And he kissed her gently on the forehead.

* * *

She didn't sleep.

In the 2 hours that passed she didn't even change or take off her makeup. As soon as she met the bed, she collapsed into the sheets and buried her face in the fluffiest pillow she could find.

It was just a nervous breakdown, or a panic attack. This kind of thing happened frequently after Ashton's suicide, she saw him at the train station, bumped into him at the library, but why did it resurface now?

And why with _him_? Cat couldn't understand why this madman had such an influence over her.

"I must be going crazy."

And she wasn't sure if the shotgun blast she heard at that moment was real or not.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

Cat peered around the edge of the hall to see what had caused all the guests to fall silent.

Guarding the hall and blocking Cat's view, where a large number of heavily armed thugs in clown masks. They were roughly pacing amongst the people and brandishing shotguns.

"We are tonight's entertainment."

A head of dishevelled green-stained hair passed by the guard in front of Cat, and she tried not to scream.

"I just have one question: Where is Harvey Dent?"

The party guests remained silent, causing Joker to swing his shotgun into their faces and try to threaten the answer out of them.

Cat should've turned and locked herself in the bedroom, they hadn't seen her and she could easily slip out of sight.

She drew her ankle quietly out of her heel and was grateful for the sound reduction of her tights. The heels were held tightly in her arms, she was careful careful not to drop them and alert the men to her presence.

Cat turned, and took her first few steps back up the hall. In fact, she would've made it all the way to the bedroom had she not heard Rachel's voice rise above the hushed murmurs.

"Stop." Rachel stepped ahead of the crowd, her arms crossed and her jaw clenched defiantly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cat whispered, eyes wide.

The Joker turned from Mr Labowski, who he had been threatening, and faced her with a bemused smile. "Well, hello beautiful."

She felt an odd twinge in her stomach as Joker flirted with Rachel, circling her slowly and recounting a dreadful story about his wife.

It wasn't until he held the sharp blade against her cheek that Cat finally found her feet.

She could've burst into the center of the circle with objections, like Rachel had, but that didn't do a lot of good for her.

Cat slowly picked up a butter knife from a nearby food table and held it against her palm.

The circle of criminals seemed unbreakable, but after completing a full round undetected, she saw that near the elevator there was a small unnoticeable gap.

Did she think she could stop them all?

No, of course not.

But she knew that their only hope was a masked vigilante who wasn't great on response time, if she could buy the Batman a few moments and save Rachel, then even the craziest plan would be effective.

With the knife's cool handle held securely against her palm, she closed her eyes, and dashed forwards into the centre of the crowd.

Cat was relying heavily on the fact that her outstretched arm would hit something vital, preferably a heart, and kept her eyes squeezed closed in fright.

There was impact, and she felt fabric brush against her wrist.

"My, my." The dreadful voice crooned from above her. "Little kitty found her claws."

Finally, Cat opened her eyes and was mildly disturbed by her own work. The ornate silver knife jutted out of Joker's arm, impaled to the hilt and dripping with blood.

"You must be crazy."

He wrenched the knife out of his arm without so much of a wince, dropped it to the floor with a clang, and advanced upon her. "Luckily, that's my type."

She tried to wriggle herself out of the sudden side hug he'd pulled her into, a hand clamped painfully to her waist.

"Unless you want more cutlery shoved in unpleasant places, I suggest you let me go." Cat snarled.

Joker laughed harshly, and brought his lips near her ear, an unwelcome flush met her cheeks as he began to sing softly. "Here's to the crazy ones, the round pegs in square holes. Here's to the misfits fighting the status quo."

He twirled her violently and left her vision blurry. "Here's to the victims who no longer have to weep."

Joker lifted a knife and waved it at her playfully, a wicked grin stretched over his rippling mouth.

"Here's to little kitty cat, her sanity's only skin deep."

He brandished the knife again, raising it above his head in preparation to land it in her chest, Cat closed her eyes.

"Killing an unarmed girl? Joker you've reached a new low."

Joker snapped his head to the left and had a second to acknowledge the dark figure, before Batman caught him with a heavy blow.

Cat jumped back into the crowd to avoid getting spun to the ground and kicked in the head, like Joker. Batman threw the knife across the room and advanced upon the thugs, who were now stepping forwards with shotguns raised.

The brawl was quick, Cat could barely discern why each of Joker's men were falling to the ground. Batman was sidestepping punches, cracking forearms, leaving the thugs out cold on the floor.

Finally, Batman threw the Joker to the glass screen doors and Cat let out a breath she didn't know she was holding onto.

Unfortunately, both Cat and the Batman let their guard down too soon and Joker held up a second knife to the throat of Rachel Dawes, who was white as a sheet.

"Drop the knife." Batman warned, his gruff voice on the razor edge of enraged.

Rachel shook her head quickly, but too late. The Joker took this challenge and blasted away the pane of glass next to him with his shotgun, the sound of falling glass and Cat's own ringing ears were all she could here while the two opposing forces conversed. Batman made some sort of muffled demand, and Joker's response was a quip and a cold laugh, before he threw Rachel off the ledge and onto the sloping roof below.

"No." Two clear shouts rang out in the silence, Batman didn't hesitate to run at the window and dive down after her.

More silence followed.

Joker leaned over the balcony and let out a bark of laughter before turning back to the penthouse.

"That was fun."

He was breathing hard, clearly exhilarated, and he wiped away the blood running down his sweaty white makeup.

A few thugs had come to and were picking themselves up, groaning and cursing.

"We can't just let him go!" Somehow the man had kept his clown mask on, while both arms were now twisted at odd angles.

"We need to kidnap the bitch." Another, lanky criminal piped up while holding a bullet hole in his arm tightly. But Joker didn't respond, he was staring straight at Cat.

"Little kitty."

His soft voice echoed around the room and he slowly walked up to her, unblinking.

Cat's knees were shaking so badly and her head still buzzing with the gunshots, that she didn't register the threat until Joker had a firm grip on her arm and a gun pressed against her temple.

"I'm in the market for adoption," His smile stretched across his horrid scarred lips. "You're my kitty now."

He nodded to someone behind her. Cat felt a painful pinch in her neck and could barely register a cold syringe against her skin, and the knowledge that Batman had abandoned her, before blackness seeped into her vision and blissful sleep pulled her under.


	9. Hidden Scars

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Thank you so much for getting this story to 500 reads in such a short time, you are all so great! Our next goal is 1000 so please subscribe so that you can be the first to read each chapter, I love you all! (Warning: This chapter has a bit of implied gore in it.)**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Consciousness ripped through her skull, and pulled her violently from sleep. Cat's eyes were still cemented shut, she was vaguely aware that neither her arms or legs could move and her spine was painfully stiff.

"-shipment of 68 Barrettas just arrived. You wanna let the boss know?"

"Nah, he's prepping for the funeral. Mayor's not gonna just shoot himself now is he?"

The other voice laughed in response. Cat tried to open her eyes, to hear who was plotting the murder of Mayor Anthony Garcia. As expected, her body's motor functions were still not responding to her and she was completely paralysed.

"Now, what the hell's he doin with this skank?" Grumbled a voice from over her shoulder, she felt the barrel of a gun jab at her arm in distaste. The other walked over with thundering footsteps.

"Who knows why that nutjob does anything? Just follow orders and he won't put a bullet between your ears."

"Nah, I heard he uses a blade, cuts you up, that's how sick he is."

"I don't remember him telling us we couldn't have some fun with her."

Cat tried, once again, to leap from the chair and run, but still her muscles were jelly-like.

"He won't mind if she's slightly used, eh?" The man chortled from directly behind her. A familiar sound of an unzipping dress echoed around the room, Cat felt warm fingers brush her shoulder blades.

"Hey, maybe you shouldn-"

A shotgun blast cut him off into a scream, both men leaped away from Cat and landed with a crash on the far side of the room.

"You know," a low voice droned from what she assumed was a doorway. "I never was much of a sharer."

"It was Coster, he touched your girl, I warned him but-."

Once again, he was cut off by a shotgun, this time accompanied by the loud thump of a falling body.

"I didn't like Coster," Joker laughed to himself. "He took everything too seriously. What about you Kane?"

"Me?"

Slow, deliberate footsteps approached Cat and the man called 'Kane'.

"Which hand touched her?"

"I-I don't understand."

There was the click of a switchblade. "Bad children get punished. Now, hold out a hand or lose your intestines, it's your choice."

Silence followed, a sharp intake of breath, a sickening slash, and Kane screamed as something wet landed on the concrete ground.

"Run along." Joker trilled, Kane didn't hesitate to march swiftly out of earshot.

Cat was fuelled by adrenaline now and managed to open her eyes, her heart pounding in her ears. Joker had his back to her and was wiping blood of a shiny blade with a stained purple handkerchief.

"Th-thank you." Cat rasped, she felt that despite everything, his actions had saved her from a repulsive fate.

His back straightened at her words, Joker turned swiftly and struck her cheekbone with the cleaned switchblade. She wheezed at the pain and felt warm liquid ooze down her jaw and drip onto her collarbone.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" Joker loomed over her, mopping up the blood with his handkerchief since she was tied securely to the chair.

"Well," He took her silence as interest. "I was dating this girl for a while. Not nearly as pretty as you sweetheart," He landed a kiss roughly on her cheek and licked his lips in triumph when she recoiled, disgusted.

"I worked late nights at the office, to support her expensive lifestyle. I come home one day, tired, just looking for a little sympathy. What do I find instead?"

Joker knelt down before her, looking up with innocently raised eyebrows and she experienced a pang of unwelcome sympathy.

"I find my dear Maria dry-humping the furniture salesman. I have to do something, so I pull him off her by his collar. He didn't like that, not one bit. So, he comes at me with Maria's tailoring scissors, he was rabid, insane, cuts me up like I was a warm stick of butter. And most of the scars faded, but not these."

He rotated his face to showcase the long, jagged scars tearing a line from the corner of his mouth to the middle of his cheek. Cat couldn't help but empathise with him, a romantic unfaithful partner was something she understood all too well.

"And now, you."

"M-me?" She stammered, watching him drag over a second chair and swing himself onto it with ease.

"How did you get your scars?"

He was sitting a few feet opposite her, twisting the blade in his hands.

"I don't have…"

"No!" Joker shouted, grabbing her face roughly and squeezing her cheeks together.

"I don't mean this hull; Skin and tissue, it's all worthless. We're all just walking balloons of blood and water, no, no," His hand travelled across her chin and to her earlobe, where he began to roll the pearl earring gently.

"I'm talking inside. Underneath all this worthless CRAP!" With the pearl still pinched between his fingers, he yanked it down. Cat shrieked in anguish and stared at the bloody earring still in Joker's grasp.

"Because inside, you're disfigured, deformed, scarred, don't think I don't see you."

Fat tears were rolling down her face and her ear was exploding with pain she didn't know was possible to feel.

"Soon you'll see things from my perspective," He dropped the mutation of pearl and ripped flesh, instead leaning in again with a coy smile.

"It's like looking into a mirror." He sang softly, tracing her lips with the tip of his forefinger.

"We're nothing alike." She spat, her voice thick with pain.

Joker nodded slightly and stood up, stretching as he made for the exit.

"Well there is one thing," He paused, a gloved hand on the reinforced-steel door. "At the end of the day, I take off my makeup."

And with that, the door swung closed with a low thud and clicked into place. The small steel room was flooded in absolute darkness. The blood thudding in her ear and her own rasping breath were the only sounds she could hear, and she began to comprehend how alone she really was.

Cat fell into noiseless, gut-wrenching sobs.


	10. The Fun Begins

**Disclaimer:I don't own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Exams are finally over and I am free to write again! Thanks for being so patient and for all the attention you give this story, we have almost reached our goal of 1000 reads (which is awesome :) ). The next few chapters will be a bit more action packed, so follow the story to keep reading!**

 **If you are enjoying the story, leave a review and a favourite, just so I get a sense on how it's currently progressing. If you have some critical feedback then please let me know, I promise not to get too upset ;).**

 **As always, stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

He reset the sound tuning and leaned back in his chair, exhausted.

Bruce had been at this for hours, studying the Joker's ransom video in different image treatments and scanning software.

If he could find the location of this mysterious steel bunker that the imposing batman was held, it might lead him to Cat.

Alfred set a cup of hot tea in front of the many screens, and sighed solemnly.

"Targeting her to get to me won't get their money back." Bruce inclined to the screens and the grinning madman.

"I knew the mob wouldn't go down without a fight, but this is different. With Cat, they crossed the line."

Alfred took a moment to respond, a thought caught on his tongue, eventually he looked up and acknowledged the repetitive video. "You crossed the line first. You squeezed them, hammered them to the point of desperation."

Bruce leaned forward and raised the bat-cabinet with the flick of a switch. A cylindrical shelf of weapons and armour rose from the ground.

"And in their desperation," Alfred continued. "They turned to a man they don't fully understand."

"Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. We just have to work out what he's after, what he wants in return for Caterina."

Wayne was clenching his fists at his sides as he made his way to the armoured costume in the cabinet. He hadn't slept in two days, hadn't done anything or saved anyone that didn't have direct information towards Cat's whereabouts.

And still, with all the equipment and resources, he'd come up with nothing.

"Respectfully, Mr Wayne," Alfred carefully stated. "Perhaps this is a man that you don't fully understand either." He paused, waiting for a smart and aggressive retort. But Wayne remained silent and didn't even turn from the cabinet.

"A long time ago, I was in Burma," Alfred walked over to where Bruce was ignoring him. "And my friends and I were working for the local government. They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit."

Bruce finally turned, though his face portrayed annoyance at being interrupted.

"So we went looking for the stones," His butler ignored the resentment as per usual. "But in six months, we never met anyone who traded with him."

A wistfulness filled his eyes as Alfred recounted past adventures and a younger self. Bruce's own expression softened, curiosity overruling anger.

"One day, I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away." He finished with small smile, as if delivering the plot twist of a good book.

Bruce pondered this sentence and couldn't come up with his own logical conclusion.

"So why steal them?" He asked with a shrug of his soldiers.

"Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money."

Bruce's gaze fell on the Joker and his twisted grin, even behind the monitor he still felt an unfamiliar trickle of fear.

"They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with." Alfred leaned in and gravely muttered. "Some men just want to watch the world burn."

He could almost hear the psychotic laughter behind the screen and Bruce shook his head, defiantly. "I won't let that happen, not to Cat."

Alfred paused, midway to the staircase.

"Mr Wayne?" He turned and, with a hand in his pocket, cocked his head. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but why is it that Miss Morgan has such a hold on you?"

His reply was the sharp 'tang' of metal hinges as he equipped his weaponized arm-brace.

"She doesn't seem your usual play. And, once again in utmost respect, she appears a little…well…youthful, pardon the phrase."

Bruce clipped a series of sharp batarangs to his utility belt. If Alfred was expecting to anger him, it was a different reaction entirely, he looked up solemnly.

"She's Ashton's sister."

"Oh." Alfred seemed gravely surprised, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You understand. I knew who she was the second I saw her, and I owe her everything. I owe her absolutely everything."

Alfred nodded in understanding, his brow creased and his gaze lowered.

"You should be wary, Mr Wayne," his voice was barely audible. "I think she may have fallen in love with you."

But this was an issue for another time, or so he thought. Alfred left him alone in the bunker and Bruce fell back into his frantic search.

A few hours passed before a message appeared over the monitors. The only person with this contact information was Commissioner Gordon and Bruce nervously tapped his fingers while reading the message.

"Alfred!" Came his loud and urgent call, his butler ducked below the staircase and regarded him with a sense of bewilderment.

"Something the matter, sir?"

"I'm going out," He was pulling components of his armour out of the cabinet. "Gordon said someone broke into the DA's office last night."

"And this is a job for…him?"

He nodded his head at the bat-mask in Bruce's arms. In retort, Bruce turned the monitor with the message to the staircase, showing Alfred the scanned picture. A 'joker' playing card was found instead of the stolen file, and written on it, the scrawling words;

' _…and stir well_ '.

* * *

"You didn't have to show-up."

Gordon retorted from his desk, a cup of piping hot coffee in one hand and a manila file in the other.

Batman emerged from the shadows, towering over the sitting figure and yet Gordon didn't flinch.

"The file was pretty much worthless anyway, a closed case, not even sure how he found it at the bottom of all the rubbish, but I thought you might want to be kept informed."

Batman inclined his head, gratefully, and took the folder from Gordon's outstretched hand. It had no visible labelling, nothing to indicate at its contents.

"What was it?"

"Ah, some case from 11 years ago, it should've been discarded by now, we record all the classics in the database so we don't clog up the…"

He trailed off as Batman seemed obviously distraught, clutching the folder so tightly in his gloved fingers that the edges curled in protest.

"What was it?" He repeated, slowly, his eyes darkening through the mask.

"Morgan, Ashton." Gordon seemed surprised at his reaction but read aloud from the computerised file nevertheless. "Suicide, a single SWC ripped a hole straight through the kid's frontal lobe and cracked the bricks behind. Never a pretty sight," He scrolled quickly through the crime scene photographs.

"In fact this never should've been documented in the crime folder, suicide 'aint a crime anymore, there must've been a glitch in the system-"

"-No."

Gordon looked up, surprised at Batman's sudden remark. "What do you mean, 'No'?"

"Did you ever read the original file?"

"No," Gordon continued, slowly. "It was marked as 'unimportant' and locked away under god-knows how many years of crime."

Batman dropped the file on the desk and took a seat in the adjacent office chair, looking slightly comical with his cape tucked amongst the leather.

"Commissioner Loeb took the wrong report."

Gordon was struck with the news and began to regard this robbery with a newfound sense of foreboding.

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he owed me a favour." Batman replied gruffly. The two didn't speak for about 10 seconds, as Gordon reasoned this and Batman waited with the truth.

"What you're telling me is…"

"The folder that Joker stole," He looked up at Gordon. "It's the truth about Morgan's death."

"And that is?"

"It wasn't a suicide."


	11. Dinner With The Devil

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

Another wave of hunger groaned from her stomach, pain clenched at her sides and the acidic taste of bile burned her throat.

But she still refused to eat.

The small tray of canned spaghetti and apple slices was lying dejected in the corner of the room, along with four others each varying in freshness.

Her reasoning was that she had one last attempt at revolt, at defiance, and she would die fighting her captors.

Every 3 hours, a 'radar' alarm would blast through hidden speakers in her bunker cell.

She was sleep deprived, hungry, and ready to fucking die already.

Maybe it was the consistent ear-splitting alarm, or the nausea caused by fatigue and lack of eating; whatever it was, Cat found herself less willing to fight back whenever men in clown masks unlocked the door to administer a painful beating.

This would almost be bearable, given that there were only 2 men landing blow after blow on her ribcage and stomach, but the brass-knuckles they always seemed to carry broke her skin, her bones, and her spirit.

She was so cold in her cell. By the third day of starvation, her body was using all its precious energy and glucose just to keep her heart beating and her brain processing, so she was left with the heating capacity of a block of ice.

Cat had been taught advanced biology when she was nine, and she remembered her parents reciting the timeline of starvation. Day one and two had passed, they were the worst and the most painful. The next few days would be strange and stagnant, as the body adapted to the situation and stopped trying to send the message that food was needed. She would be tired, but not allowed to sleep.

Cat knew that her death could take weeks, even months of agony.

It was a depressing thought.

* * *

"She's still not eating, boss."

The thug was reluctant to approach the Joker, sitting innocently in an office chair and shuffling through a degrading pack of cards.

"It's been a few days, the boys 'aint sure what to do about it."

He licked his lips in thought, tucking the top half of the deck under the bottom.

"We haven't been treating her the way she deserves," Joker remarked. "Invite her to dinner."

The thug didn't dare question his strange demands, and marched down the flights of concrete stairs to the basement.

* * *

Cat rubbed her streaming nose and breathed heavily on her fingertips, the heat was 3 seconds of relief but this simple task reduced her to dizziness.

The door clanked, as the security lock was breached, and she readied herself for another beating, the mornings punch-up was still shining scarlet from her gut and oozing through her gashed party dress.

The thug had a strange, silky material in his arms, which he threw roughly over her knees.

"Orders from the Joker," He commanded. "Dress quickly and follow."

Cat looked down at the chiffon gown, in deep purple with a plunging V-neckline.

"What the hell?" She croaked, and looked to the thug for an explanation, she received nothing but a gesture with a shotgun to follow orders.

Bruce's fundraiser seemed a lifetime ago, and the cocktail dress was glued to her body with blood and sweat, she struggled to roll it down her waist.

The purple dress, while admittedly beautiful, was wasted on her skinny, bruised, and bleeding body. Her face had streaks of makeup running down from nights of weeping, and the cut on her cheek was scabbing with black flakes. In the shiny door, her reflection was misshapen, beautiful in its ugliness, and she hated how subdued she appeared.

She truly was just a punching bag.

The thug led her up numerous staircases with no consideration for her lack of energy. The air around her began to warm as she neared the surface, and each level of the complex was slightly better off than the last.

By the time she had climbed her fourth staircase and completely lost feeling in her bare feet; her surroundings were almost pleasant.

"Wait here," he ordered, leaving her in a dimly lit room with chestnut-brown walls and a glossy, tiled flooring.

A single, cylindrical wall light filled the entire room with a comfortable yellow glow and Cat was stunned by the lack of fluorescence.

Her shaky legs carried her to the middle of the room and she wished for a window, something to portray that there still was an outside world amidst all this darkness and anguish.

She was use to the silence, so she jumped when a low voice addressed her from the corner of the room.

"You look stunning."

A match was struck, and a large candle flared to life.

"No one can wear terror like you can."

The orange light illuminated a round table, dressed in a white tablecloth, cutlery, two glasses of wine, and a thorny stem protruding, the bud removed, from a crystal vase.

The man who had spoken to her was barely recognisable. His hair was combed and slicked back, the purple suit was replaced with a blood-red suit and a black waistcoat. His horrid makeup was washed entirely away. The only thing that surrendered his name to her, was the jagged scarring and soulless black eyes; even these appeared bizarrely handsome in the fetching candle light.

She must've been more worn out than she thought.

"Sit," He nodded at the opposite office chair, the only part of the setup that wasn't formal or charming.

Cat sunk into the chair but wouldn't meet his penetrating gaze, instead she watched the flame dance over the candles wick.

"Now a little birdie told me that my boys haven't been giving you the five-star treatment I ordered." The switchblade was still, as ever, in his possession and he twirled it in his fingers absentmindedly.

"I've already killed the people responsible, don't you worry about it."

Joker reached out a hand and caressed the scar on her cheek, ironically the only act of violence he committed against her. Cat didn't even try to recoil, she was so tired and his touch didn't cause her anguish; so for once, she almost welcomed it, if only to remember that not all contact had to be painful.

"I hope we can reach some level of understanding, between the two of us. I have something for you, and if you eat, you can have it."

She was only now realising that a full plate of food was before her. Juicy, medium-rare steak, a side of fresh lettuce and avocado. Despite her resolve, her stomach begged her for the meal.

Cat gave a small incline of agreement, before attacking the food and throwing all cares to the wind.

It was the best plate of food that had ever graced her tastebuds, and it vanished from her plate in a timeframe of twenty seconds. The wine wasn't as welcoming, as she had been supplied water down in the basement, but the taste of something with even the slightest hint of flavour made her ecstatic.

Joker didn't eat from his own plate, and simply watched her eat with a strange curiosity, as if sharing a meal was a peculiarity he didn't yet understand.

Cat downed the last drop of wine and sat back to breathe, after the fit of eating she was exhausted.

"Good girl," He crowed, and clicked his fingers. A thug, dressed hilariously in a waiter apron and button down, marched begrudgingly to the table and snatched the plates.

"Send my complements to the chef." Joker waved his hand at his humiliated henchmen, and Cat couldn't keep the snort of laughter from him. This display of amusement caused a smile to stretch over his mouth and he gazed, unblinkingly, at her now uncomfortable expression.

"The gift?" She stammered, unsure as to why she was plunged into nervousness by the intimacy of the moment.

"Ah, yes. I am a man of my word after all."

A rectangular parcel was slid across the table and the silver wrapping paper caught the flickering candlelight.

It was light in her hands, thin, and appeared to have defined sharp corners.

"A file?"

After unwrapping it, Cat looked up to Joker to guess his reasoning, he had an excited gleam in his eye and nodded at her to read it.

"GCPD property, file 247c, Morg-"

The narration stopped suddenly, her words caught in her throat. "Why?" She finally whispered, the file seemed to grow unimaginably heavy in her grasp.

"Keep reading, sweetheart."

"Morgan. Ashton." Her voice shook at the pronunciation of his name.

She skimmed down the report, already having memorised it all; 'Macrow Alley, December twelfth, male in his early twenties shot in the head at 11:45pm, two witnesses'.

The details section of the report was lengthier than she remembered reading, so she mustered her courage and read aloud once more.

"Officer Cosner, number 378, was completing his patrol westbound down Redpine Drive when he observed three figures in Macrow Alley, facing directly away from the main street. Officer Cosner parked his surveillance vehicle to observe the situation, and identified one of the pedestrians as the infamous vigilante 'Batman'. Officer Cosner than identified a firearm in one of the figures possession, and proceeded to approach the situation to perform an arrest. The following dialogue was recorded by Officer Cosner and sworn inexplicably to be accurate;

"Give me the fucking money, or I'll blow your brains out."

"Listen hero, I think he's serious, maybe I should just-"

"-Stay where you are Morgan, I know a fake gun when I see one."

"Wait, he's gonna shoot!"

"I said get the fuck away from me!"

Officer Cosner then observed the firearm release a series of SWCs that ricocheted off the alleyway walls. Officer Cosner observed the 'Batman' assault the armed man, and tie him up with wire. The man lying on the ground, identified by his Driver's License as 'Morgan, Ashton, J', had suffered a head wound to his left frontal lobe and was named 'deceased' by 11:49 pm. Officer Cosner failed to apprehend the 'Batman', and performed an arrest on the incapacitated male for homicide (see file 279c)."

Nausea began to fill every corner in Cat's body, her mind was blank and her palms sweaty.

The file dropped itself back onto the table.

Her vision was blurred around the corners, and her breathe inconsistently rapid.

"Surprise!"

The Joker threw his hands into the air in sick triumph. She could barely breathe let alone speak, instead the stared at the file.

It was so vivid, so real in her mind, and something about the report hooked her to the point of doubting everything she knew about her brother.

Joker could be lying, manipulating her, creating a false report wasn't difficult.

But this brought her mind back to 11 years ago when she first read what she thought was the truth. Even then, something about it nagged the back of her mind, but she put it out of thought.

Now, she recalled it clearly.

'Left frontal lobe'.

'Left'.

Her brother was right handed, how could he possibly perform a clean shot such as that?

"It was that…it was him…he…"

The words were falling out of her throat like vomit, in fact it was that moment that her stomach's entire contents emptied itself beside her chair.

"I told you so," Joker sang, gleeful at Cat's peaky expression and continuous retching. "You would see things my way."

All that delicious dinner was gone, leaving Cat with a hideous emptiness, she found the will to turn back to the Joker, who was tucking the file away and regarding her far too casually.

"You thought that 'Batman' was a hero? You thought that Gotham was a safe place? Turns out everything is a lie. With me? You know where you stand. I kill those that oppose me and look after the loyal ones, I'm a man of my word. And what of this 'hero'? He lies for years to save his own hide, he cowers behind a mask and drapes himself in the flag of righteousness; ultimately he is as corrupt and unpredictable as the city he protects."

Cat still didn't say a word.

"Gotham is sick, it's plagued by greed and this 'social hierarchy'. They eat each other for money and for power."

"You know betrayal better than anyone by now, still think that you're on the right side there?"

"So, what do we do? What do we have to do? When a crop contracts a disease the farmer burns it, making way for a new and healthier harvest. I introduce a little chaos, a little beautiful anarchy, and Gotham is forced to see itself as the way it is; full of people ready to kill each other for their own, disgusting, self-preservation."

"I target a 'little guy', no one cares, I target the 'Mayor' and suddenly it's 'Loco-ville'. Say what you will about my system, but it is fair, I allow natural selection to dictate who lives and who dies. In Gotham, the man with the heaviest wallet is king, now, now, tell me how that's fair?"

Joker looked up at Cat with quizzically raised eyebrows, once again with an unfair innocence that was his parasite.

She was forced to glance away.

"Now you, you are an outsider, like me. Batman weighed your life, much like your brothers, and found it not worth the effort of protecting because you don't crap on a toilet of gold."

"I see you, I see the worth of your mind and your conviction. Join me, have a little fun, and teach Gotham that virtue and value are at opposite ends of the board."

His hand fell on hers, she was dangerously close to giving in and accepting him. If not for his words, then for his hand not to move and take away the comfort it brought.

But Cat noticed the blade gleaming, wickedly, from his coat pocket and the wistful delusion faltered. He was a killer. He had blood on his hands.

"You…you repel me." She mustered, her hand flying back into the coldness of her own lap.

"You think that because I have a tragic backstory, it excuses the formation of a killer? I still hold my morale, though you have mutilated yours. You should know, bitterness is a paralytic. Revenge can't break someone."

He seemed mildly deflated at her words, it concerned her that he wasn't angrier.

"Very wise," Joker nodded, leaning back in his chair. "But you are entirely wrong if you think revenge is the only card in my hand."

Someone grabbed her roughly from behind and hoisted her off the chair.

This time, Joker didn't oppose the violent way Cat was handled and nodded at the man over her shoulder.

"Get her in the van and load the weapons. Oh," He added, as a side thought. "And get her something else to wear. We have to be presentable for the funeral."


	12. Free Falling

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **This chapter was fun to write, but wouldn't stop crashing so it's a miracle I got it done! Sit back and enjoy a few hours of googling 'crash fixes', losing progress, and the romance genre you all signed up for. :)**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

The normally bustling alley was blocked off, onlookers and grieving citizens lined the sidewalks and watched police walk past in dress uniform.

Police Commissioner Loeb was mourned by the entirety of Gotham, and yet it only took a whisky glass lined with hydrogen cyanide to bring him down. The Joker was particularly proud of this murder, and boasted about it while the armed van made for the service.

"All three, dead at once." He counted on his white-gloved fingers. "It's art."

Joker and his men had made a quick stop at a block of apartments. Caterina was locked in the back of the van and couldn't discern the happenings, but made an assumption based on the fact that they were all wearing 'honor guard' uniforms when they returned.

Joker had, once again, ditched the 'war paint' and with his unruly hair tucked into the cap, and his face reverted to normal; Cat begrudgingly admitted that he made that dress uniform his bitch.

"We all know the plan?"

Joker was reloading his stolen rifle and practically hopping in his seat with excitement.

"I'll join the Honour Guards, shoot the Mayor, and we rendezvous back here."

The thugs grunted in agreement.

"What if Batman shows up?"

The men all turned to her, surprised, it was the first spoken phrase that had escaped her lips in hours.

"I mean, I don't think he's as nocturnal as his name suggests." Cat mumbled, shrinking into her seat.

The Joker smiled at her in response, as if she was a new employee with promise.

"She's right, but I doubt the Batman would be welcomed into their little party."

The van turned into a side street beside a small bakery, and the Joker's men began unloading the van.

"Here you go, sweetheart, a little present for you." He wrapped something made of thick nylon around her neck and fastened it with Velcro.

"Just think of it as your kitty collar, if you behave it shouldn't be a problem."

As a sick joke, a silver pendent was attached to the front of the choker with her name engraved in the metal. Joker admired his work with a thumb between his teeth.

"Come on beautiful, we've got work to do."

She was pulled into the sudden daylight by her elbows, unfortunately her long skirt wasn't so graceful and it caught under her heels, sending her flying.

The ground began rapidly approaching her face, before she was spun around and held protectively from the potential face-plant.

Cat stared at his chest, not daring to raise her eyes, not daring to face the situation as it was.

"You should be more careful." He said, slowly, softly, not releasing her from his grip.

"Falling is a dangerous game."

They were frozen together, she felt unwelcome heat in her cheeks and her heart threatened to pound out of her chest.

It struck her how similar attraction was to fear, the symptoms were so interchangeable; she couldn't tell whether she was terrified or infatuated wrapped in the Joker's arms.

A walkie-talkie blared to life from his belt.

"In position, we're waiting for your signal." Croaked one of the thugs, and the spell was broken.

Joker hastily pushed her from him and brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth, responding and hurrying to the crowd.

She watched him melt into the mass of people and noise, trying to discern whether she was insane for feeling a twinge of disappointment.

* * *

Cat joined the crowd, since she didn't have an awful lot to do, and was very aware that her collar was resonating a soft hum of electricity.

The sea of policemen marched past her position on the avenue, in the centre were three grieving families and the honor guard. She strained her neck to distinguish her Joker among them, but she could barely see the street above the crowd. At the end of the avenue, standing behind a grand mahogany podium was Mayor Garcia.

"...and as we recognize the sacrifice of these officers," He was announcing to the masses. "We must remember that vigilance is the price of safety."

The elderly woman beside her began to stare and point at Cat, speaking rapidly in Spanish. Cat discerned the word 'Joker' amidst the babble and was surprised to learn that someone must be looking for her, making her face and situation known.

It might've been Bruce, but she imagined that without her interference, he was happily in love with Rachel.

Cat shook her head at the lady and gestured to her collar, which was an explosive if they had ever seen one. The lady let out a terrified shriek and backed down the street, elbowing through the crowd and pulling her two little boys as far away from her as possible.

Cat sighed; if only she could afford to be terrified.

The Mayor had wrapped up his speech and stepped away from the podium while the honor guards lined up their rifles. Any second now, he would be dead, and Cat would be shoved back into that tiny freezer with apple slices and hourly beatings.

It was a lose-lose situation.

Harvey Dent was beside the Mayor and had the same grief-stricken expression that the whole of Gotham seemed to paste over their faces.

In truth they probably didn't care, someone else would step up and the 'circle of life' would move on.

It was all so temporary, so fragile, like a child in a private school. Gotham had no idea about what true anguish and hardship was.

 _Try learning that your brother was murdered by a superhero._

Dent scanned the crowd and, to her surprise, his gray eyes fell on her. There was a moment of clouded confusion, then he registered what her presence meant and his eyes widened.

"Cat?" He mouthed and slowly rose from his chair.

Time slowed, and the whole thing blew up.

One rifle in the honour guard swung to face the Mayor. Jim Gordon somehow noticed this in a nanosecond, and leaped towards the Mayor, slamming him to the ground and sheltering him from the gunshots. Two bullets ploughed into his back and left holes ripped into his suit.

The entire street fell into pandemonium, screaming, the crowd rushing to save themselves.

Cat recognized one of Joker's thugs, and watched him get shot in the leg and fall to the asphalt, creating a circle of passers-by that didn't want anything to do with the 'wounded soldier'.

The rest of the thugs melted into the chaos and confusion and Cat was suddenly unsure as to the state of her imprisonment. She could run, run to Harvey who had lost sight of her but was scanning the crowd with the assist of three policemen.

She would be safe, but the collar hadn't stopped its threatening hum.

Cat backed away from the scrambling crowd until she hit the brick wall of a convenience store. With shaking fingers, she peeled away the Velcro and lowered the collar from her neck. It landed innocently on the ground, the metal tag winking in the sunlight.

She was free.

The bustling street worked well to hide her from view as she picked her way to the podium, where police were leaning over the body of Gordon. Just a few more steps and she would be safe...

"No, no, no, no."

The singing came from right beside her ear, and two strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist. However, Cat had tasted freedom and felt a new rush of hope in her veins.

She grabbed Joker's index fingers that were intertwined around her stomach, and pulled them violently in the opposite direction.

He yelped and swore, dropping her to the ground.

Cat jumped up and sprinted forward. The stage was only a few metres away now, in fact, one of the policemen was noticing her and shouting. "I've got him in my sights."

The handgun emerged from his pocket, pointed directly at Cat who was obscuring the policeman from the Joker.

"Wait!"

She tried to scream but the man was blind to all else, except the person who had murdered Jim Gordon.

He clicked the safety off, squeezed the trigger, and Cat shut her eyes for the inevitable.

The blow hit her from behind, propelling her forward so she collided with the ground hand-first.

A gun fired and the remaining crowd was thrown into chaos once again. Cat lay on the asphalt, experiencing death.

There wasn't much pain, except in her left wrist which was scraped and jutting out oddly. Her fingers felt like they were being pulled from her hand with strings; but a broken wrist wasn't the same as a gunshot.

She looked over her shoulder to assess the situation, and found a baffling sight; Policemen were jumping from the stage, yelling orders and brandishing weapons at a specific spot in the avenue. There, lying with his arms spread, was a man in honor guard uniform.

The confusing string of events began to piece themselves together and Cat realized that she had been saved, saved by a psychopath.

It wouldn't be long before the police got to him, arrested him, if he didn't die first.

She slowly turned and made for the remaining security on the stage, but her feet wouldn't take her more than a few steps.

Joker had saved her.

The man who killed for fun had risked his life to keep her from getting shot, though he always had an ulterior motive for everything, she couldn't work out what it was for this.

"Fuck it all." She grumbled under her breath and ran back to her captor, her wrist still burning.

Cat knelt beside him, Joker had a bullet wound in his chest that was bleeding profusely, staining the ground below it a sick burgundy.

"Oh god." She gagged into her elbow, but applied pressure to the wound using her palms and looked around for a plan. The blood was warm and dripped down her knuckles.

Cat struggled not to puke.

He still had a pulse, despite the unconsciousness, and she knew she only had minutes before he went into shock and the small blips in his neck ceased.

Elevating him could risk a spinal injury, but the policemen were still approaching and she decided to chance it. Cat wrapped one of his limp arms around her neck and took his weight against her hip. Carrying a wounded man seemed so easy in the movies, but in reality, it was like dragging a stubborn sack of rocks in slow motion.

Eventually, the pain in her wrist and legs subsided to a dull ache and she picked up a steady momentum.

A scarlet ambulance caught her attention amidst the parked vehicles and Cat increased her speed with the newfound goal. It was still slow work.

She reached the ambulance and propped Joker against the side of the car while she got it started.

"What the hell?"

A medic emerged from the driver's seat and stared in horror at the bleeding man and exhausted carrier.

"Help us." Cat managed, through gulps of oxygen.

The medic made no response but slowly brought a walkie-talkie to his mouth, as if performing the action gradually would keep her from noticing. She forgot that Joker's facial scars were well-known to the public from the ransom video, and once again swore under her breath.

"Don't fucking do it."

Unsurprisingly, he did fucking do it.

He began rapidly to tattle to the police.

Cat landed a sweeping kick to his ankles and watched him fall to the ground, hard. The problem was solved, but the blood pooling from where the medic had hit the curb might pose further complications.

She had no time to worry about the state of the man's head, and lifted Joker into the back of the ambulance. A quick bandage was wrapped tightly around his torso, before Cat jumped behind the wheel and started the engine.

* * *

It was a nail biting drive, she had stupidly forgotten to secure the Joker so with every sharp turn she heard his body thump against the sides of the ambulance; maybe there was some truth to her parents warning her never to enter the medical career.

The ambulance was fitted with a GPS system and she followed the woman's voice to 'St Mercy Hospital'.

It was a monster of a building, with towering white walls and a carpark the size of a basketball court.

Cat dragged Joker, who had thankfully not been killed by her appalling drive, through the front doors and past the waiting room, followed by shouts of the receptionist; "Miss? Miss, you can't go back there. Miss!"

She exploded through the double doors of an emergency room and stood breathing hard in the doorway. A balding man in surgical clothes was sewing up a middle-aged man, who appeared to have some sort of knife wound.

"Doc, I need your help."

He pulled down the procedure mask and stared at her.

"I'm…I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment."

Cat was tired of the excuses and had tried too hard to be thwarted by a stubborn doctor.

"I wasn't asking." She sighed, and pulled out the XD 40 from the Joker's coat pocket.

The doctor jumped back at the sight of the gun and looked at her like she was a lunatic.

With the blood running down her arms, the fancy black funeral attire, and the casual way she threatened his life; she probably did seem insane. This did the trick, however, and for the next two hours the doctor performed surgery on the Joker while Cat watched.

It was a slow and tense process.

Every so often the monitor would explode with beeps to indicate that his heart had stopped and the doctor would hurriedly inject something into his neck. She couldn't discern whether it was a successful surgery, until the doctor sighed and stepped away from the table, wiping drips of sweat from his receding hairline.

"Well?"

Cat leaned over Joker to decide whether the doc had betrayed her and just killed him, that would really piss her off.

"He'll be fine, should wake up in a few hours with enough morphine."

He then proceeded to approach her, adjusting his oval glasses.

"Now, let's see about that wrist."

He took her hand in his and rolled it gently, she shrieked as pain stabbed like a knife through her palm.

"If you don't shoot me," He said, casually. "Can I say that I know who you are."

Her response was another yelp as he bent the hand backwards, almost purposefully causing her pain.

"Mhm, I need to reset it." He mumbled to himself, obviously referring to the fact that it was oddly bent and out of place.

"Brace yourself."

He twisted sharply, this time she was ready for the exploding pain and only winced in response.

"You're that girl from the news. The one who was kidnapped."

Cat squeaked a response.

"And I assume that's the criminal."

He nodded at the table, where Joker was still in recovery and the monitor bleeping away.

"So, I'm a bit confused and very concerned." He stated plainly and wrapped her hand in thick bandages, securing it with a clip.

The question burned her mind, lingering like a bad aftertaste.

 _Why?_

 _What screw was loose?_

 _How could she possibly save him?_

"Truthfully," She muttered. "I think I'm going mad."

The doctor finished with her hand and sat back on the white stool, regarding her broken expression.

The silence between them was broken by a crashing sound, a groan, and the monitor's obnoxious seizure of bleeps.

Cat stared at the now empty table, and at the Joker who was holding the doc in a sleeper hold.

"What's go- "Joker fell into a fit of coughs and dropped back onto the table in defeat.

"It's okay, I already threatened him." Cat reassured the struggling man and nodded at the doctor to leave, he did so with a ghastly pale face.

"Well, this has been fun." Joker rubbed at his stitches and eyed her curiously. "And you're…you're still here? You know the collar was a fake, right?"

"Yeah." She lied and took the doctors previously occupied stool. "But you were dying."

"It'd take a lot more than some bullet to kick my bucket."

But Joker seemed unsure, even slightly afraid that he'd come so close to losing.

"You saved me." He said, almost more to himself than to her.

"You saved me first." She pointed out, and he barked maniacal laughter.

"Sweetheart, I was using you as a human shield. But you had to go and fall, didn't you? You really can't do anything right."

She dubiously smiled at his attempt and ran a hand through her tangled hair, funny how you don't realise the benefits of hairbrushes until you don't have one.

"It's okay to care, you know, saving me wasn't a bad thing."

"I don't _care_ ," He sniffed, suddenly preoccupied with the hole in his uniform.

"Unless it causes unimaginable pain, I don't care about it."

"Yeah, you do."

Joker looked up in surprise, the muscle in his jaw tensing.

"What gives you that delusion?"

"Because, despite what you may say to yourself," Cat leaned forward and brushed her lips against his temple, he didn't move. "You're only human."

She swore that a hint of a smile played over his lips. Not the usual, deranged smile; but one that was foreign and sweet.

That was before he ruined it by kicking her to the floor.

"Listen, sweetheart," He spat, either aggressive or defensive, she couldn't really tell. "You talk that kind of shit again and we're going to have a problem."

Cat let him kick her a few more times, accepting that she'd pushed him to this.

Finally, he was worn down by the physical activity and slumped out of the room, coughing into his elbow. She lay for a few seconds, unsure as to whether to grow angry or miserable.

"Coming, kitty?" Joker called from the hall and Cat stood up, before she knew what she was doing, to follow him.

Somehow the both of them knew that an 'explosive collar' or 'armed thugs' weren't needed anymore.

They both knew that she'd given in.


	13. Killer Intentions

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **I don't know if you can tell, but I've been working really hard to avoid the dreaded 'Stockholm Syndrome' that these kinds of stories accidently fall into. It's been a long journey to this point, but I hope I have established that Caterina has fallen for Joker in a more natural way.**

 **Stay amazing and slightly mad! XOXOXO -ImprobableDreamer**

* * *

The nights seemed to be getting colder.

Bruce was, as ever, on a violent rampage through Gotham's underbelly to uncover any leads that might point him to the Joker.

Harvey Dent had called him after the funeral service, livid, announcing that he had seen Caterina among the crowd. She was alive, and for the time being, Batman was prepared to show the Joker mercy when he found him.

But further reports of that day confused him, greatly. A medic had his head smashed in outside a Thai restaurant, and the witnesses described someone who looked a lot like Cat, knock him to the ground where his skull split.

Bruce gave her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps it was someone else, or perhaps she was being forced to commit the murder; but something in the 'fit' she had at the party and her impulse to stab the Joker left him unsure.

The Batman tracked down Salvatore Maroni at a highly popular night club, 'Danza', where he knocked him out cold and dragged him unforgivingly to the edge of a bank rooftop; to say he was annoyed was an understatement.

"I want the Joker." He commanded, dangling Maroni over the city streets by his suit collar.

It was a quiet night, especially after the attacks, the streets were generally unpopulated after the sun set.

"From one professional to another," Droned Maroni, unfazed by the general threatening aura of the Batman, he looked down to the pavement. "If you're trying to scare someone, pick a better spot. A fall from this height wouldn't kill me."

"I'm counting on it."

Batman let him go, loud shrieks following the falling figure until he smacked into the ground feet-first. His legs crumpled beneath him and the shrieking continued, Maroni was clutching at his knees which were both severely broken.

The Batman glided down safely, a smugness in his gradual descent, before once again hauling him off the ground by his collar.

"Where is he?"

"Don't know, he found us!"

"He must have friends."

"Friends?" Maroni sneered. "Have you met the guy? The closest thing he has to a friend is that skank he keeps in his basement. Though I hear," He leaned in, his voice low. "That she isn't his prisoner anymore."

Batman shook him viciously, throwing his weight back onto his legs and causing another yelp of pain.

"What does that mean? Someone must know where he is?"

Salvatore Maroni wasn't the usual class of criminal, weak and blubbering in his presence, he looked up at Batman with a steely gaze and spat at his boots.

"No one's gonna tell you anything; they're wise to your act, you got rules. The Joker, he's got no rules. No one's gonna cross him for you. You want this guy and his girl, you got one way. And you already know what that is. Just take off that mask and let him come find you. Won't be much of a fair fight though."

"Why?"

"He's a two-man team now, his little pet killed someone to save his life."

Batman clenched his jaw and wanted to shake this thought out of his head. _Cat couldn't be a killer, Bruce had made her his girlfriend and shared his life with her_.

"Why would she help him?"

Maroni grinned again, but was pale and sweating with the pain, it wouldn't be long before he passed out and Batman was desperate to pry everything from his mind.

"Haven't you heard? That little stunt you pulled years ago is coming back to bite you. Joker knows it, more importantly his feline knows it."

The anger blurred everything around him, he was absolutely seething. He wanted to rip the Joker apart for doing this to Cat, for revealing the thing that could destroy her, destroy everything he had built 'The Batman' to be.

That night still burned him, visited him in dreams, fueled the rage that kept him fighting. Ashton Morgan, a few years younger than himself, lying lifeless on the pavement. His blonde hair was soaked in blood, the side of his handsome face, blown apart by the bullet, grey lumps of brain tissue trailing down the quiet street and a shout of despair, a shout of warning. Warning that Batman ignored.

He dropped Maroni to the floor and knew that if he continued to interrogate him, things would get ugly very fast.

"Or you want to let a couple more people get killed while you make up your mind? Wouldn't be the first time." Maroni sneered, resulting in a kick in the face that knocked him out again. Maroni's nose was bent horribly out of shape and it took everything in Batman not to just end it.

If the Joker wanted to make a killer out of him, he had found the 'Achilles heel' to do so.

"Alfred," He spoke into his arm 'com unit'. "I have new suspicions about that murder, Cat might be involved somehow."

"If you say so, sir." Came Alfred's almost sarcastic reply. He had been saying for hours how the evidence didn't lie, and that Batman was too blinded by his affections to face the truth.

It was a terrible pause that followed as Batman struggled to form the sentence they were both thinking, the sentence that altered everything. But there was no excuse for murder.

"I need to bring her down."

* * *

"Hold still," She complained, exasperated.

Bloody bandages littered the concrete flooring and make-shift surgical equipment covered every available surface. Turned out that the doctor had stitched up the Joker, but as an act of defiance he had left the bullet in him, which caused problems a few days on.

"Leave it, kitty, I don't want to play doctors anymore."

Joker was, as always, difficult when it came to his own health.

"I just need five minutes; can you manage for five minutes?"

He didn't hit her for the snarky comment, which was progress on all accounts, and even sat back in the office chair.

"Thank you." Cat sighed, unbuttoning his blue shirt to reveal the raw wound underneath. She had attempted to help him for hours, but had developed a theory that Joker couldn't physically sit still for more than 30 seconds. Always jumping up with a random phrase, strolling around the room, running a hand through his hair.

Another theory was that he didn't want to show when he felt pain, and tried to hide it behind his crazy.

The scissors cut smoothly through the stitches and Cat didn't even wince as the blood escaped freely. She had been following his gang of criminals to a few murders and wasn't fazed by the sight of blood anymore.

"You know," He muttered, his gaze pointedly averted from the wound. "I was thinking that we should promote you to a more…active member of the team."

She smiled, setting down the scissors, and playfully squeezed his thigh. "Oh, you mean like _this_?"

His hand twitched, but once again he didn't punish her for acting out of turn. Instead, he moved his knee and sharply knocked her hand away, with a grin of his own.

"Sweetheart, there's a time and a place."

Cat shrugged and picked up the tweezers.

"Your loss."

It seemed that, recently, flirting was permitted as long as it was purely…physically inspired.

"No, I was thinking more on the lines of homicide-" Joker's breath hitched as the tweezers entered the wound. Cat kept her hand steady as she dug around, finally catching a glimpse of brass and pulling out the deformed clump.

"I won't kill anyone." She replied, defiantly, dropping the bullet in a glass where it clanged against the base.

He frowned, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip. "What about that poor ambulance driver?"

"That was different, I was saving us."

"You were saving me."

She waved her free hand in exasperation, the other sewing up the wound. Joker paused, leaning his head back into the chair and thoughtfully clicking his tongue.

"You're first should be meaningful." He finally concluded. "So, if you could kill anyone who would it be?"

"Ah-?" Cat shrugged, not wanting to even consider the answer. She was happy to remain silent as she mopped up the blood from his chest, but he had other ideas. Joker's hand flew to her own, tracing circles over her wrists with his thumb.

"Go on, sweetheart, let your mind go there. Who would you kill?"

She didn't even care that he was manipulating her so obviously. Despite his scarred face and chilling makeup, his hands were so soft and careful, gently guiding her mind to an answer.

"That bastard, Mark, if anyone deserves to die, he does."

Joker hopped up from the chair, clapping his hands together excitedly. "Well?" He grinned at her. "You coming?"

Cat shook her head, her heart and mind racing at doing something so horrible, so blood-curdling, and somehow so exhilarating.

"I'm not shooting him."

"A gun? Guns are so boring, no, I'm sure you'll think of something creative. It comes from the heart, you know?"

Cat found herself nodding in agreement, a strange smile polluting her face.

"Well, I think being buried alive is a horrible way to go."

Joker smiled, proudly, and pulled her into a warm hug. "It sure is." His eyes were shining as he stroked her hair affectionately.


	14. The Broken City

**Disclaimer:I don't own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **I forgot to mention that we passed 1,000 reads already, that is so incredible! For my work to even reach that many people is still hard to believe but I am grateful that it is.**

 **Please Review and Favourite if you are enjoying this story or interested to see how it plays out, I'm having so much fun writing this and any feedback is appreciated!**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

In her defense, the door was already unlocked when they arrived.

Joker had a few more names on his hit-list to deal with, Cat didn't ask for the details but agreed to tag along.

Killing Mark and his wife Janine was the most terrifying, thrilling, and liberating act that Caterina ever committed. The way he begged her for forgiveness as the light faded from his eyes and the blood stained the carpet, the way his wife never even knew that he was dead when she got home; it was all just fun.

* * *

"I think it's about time we talked." Cat said, pushing bodies into the washing machine.

Joker shook his head at her attempt and angrily rearranged the bodies, to stop the legs from sticking out.

"About what?"

"Well," She nervously removed the shoes and socks from the feet. "I want _in_."

"Hm?" Joker paid little attention to her comment, instead passing her the large bottle of chlorine-bleach.

" _In_. I want to join you officially. No more of this 'wait in the van' crap."

"Oh," He looked up sympathetically, the white bleach chugging over the bodies. "You're not underappreciated."

"I know that…"

"Then what's the problem?"

She was annoyed now, and the bleach splashed over her plastic apron as she dropped it on the laundry floor.

"The problem is that I am pathetically loyal with nothing to show for it."

"That's hilarious."

"I'm not joking."

He paused, the mould-killer and stain-remover clutched in his gloved hands. "I'll…I'll think about it."

"Really?" She beamed and pulled the dust mask over her face as Joker poured the chemicals into their little science experiment. It was disappointing that there wasn't any fizz or spark, or even a small tuft of toxic smoke. Joker fitted a mask onto his own face, as the deadly mixture worked its magic on the unconscious policemen.

"It would mean a lot to me." Her voice was muffled under the mask, drowned out by the distant sound of screaming resonating from the closed washing machine.

He ripped his gloves and mask off, dropping them carelessly on the floor, and took her hands in his.

"You'll need a change of clothes though, I'm kind of building an aesthetic."

"Whatever."

"And a haircut, your hair is so…" Joker twirled a lock of her brown hair between his fingers and sniffed it deeply, before making a face and dropping it. "Boring."

Cat was slightly insulted but shrugged her agreement anyway. The constant and earsplitting screaming was finally getting on her nerves so she kicked the machine angrily. "Can't you see we're having a conversation here?"

All three of them politely died.

"Thanks."

"And why don't we change your makeup while we're at it." Joker held out his arm for a shake, to seal the deal. Cat didn't have much need for her neat appearance anyway, in fact it was a bit of a hindrance that the thugs wouldn't take her seriously; maybe a new look would intimidate them into respecting her.

"Deal."

She grabbed his arm and shook, just as police sirens echoed in the distance and Joker's hand flew to his mouth in mock fear.

"That's our cue, sweetheart. Let's leave, this party's dead anyway."

Cat giggled and opened the front door in a flourish. "After you."

* * *

Gotham didn't take lightly to the death of Jim Gordon, he was the catalyst that threw the city into absolute chaos and fear. Harvey Dent, ever the hero, held an urgent press conference to address the new aggressive opinions against the Batman. The public found it _just_ to blame all the murders upon him, accountability wasn't something society held well.

On the second Tuesday of March, Gotham Superior Court was full to capacity; a nervous crowd of reporters, cops, and the general public. Dent stood at the podium, anxiously adjusting the microphone, his gaze flitted over the many helpless faces and he smiled unsurely at Bruce Wayne, the only face he recognised among the mass.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming," The hum of conversation dropped and camera shutters fired at lightening speeds.

"I've called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to assure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the 'Joker killings' is being done. Secondly, because the Batman has recently offered to turn himself in- "

The entire room erupted with shouts of anguish and of appreciation. Bruce Wayne nodded to himself, trying to slow his beating heart. Eventually the commanding security guards controlled the rabble and attention was redirected to Dent again.

"But first. Let's consider the situation: should we give in to this terrorist's demands? Do we really think that- "

"-How can the police hope to contain him when they couldn't even save one kidnapped woman?" A reporter interjected angrily, the crowd threatened to rise again in anger.

"Look," Harvey motioned desperately for silence. "The investigation for Caterina Morgan is ongoing. We have not given up and we will not be giving up anytime soon. We need to focus on the issue at hand, it's people like the Batman who help us save kidnapped women and keep the streets safe."

Another reporter took the opposition, loudly. "You'd rather protect an outlaw vigilante than the lives of citizens?! People disappearing off the streets should be higher on your list than this 'Batman'."

The crowd exploded at this, debates and opinions thrown carelessly across the room. Harvey Dent wiped his brow hopelessly, until the guards once again shut everyone up with pure authority.

"The Batman is an outlaw," He looked out to the fidgeting crowd. "But that's not why we're demanding he turn himself in. We're doing it because we're scared. We've been happy to let Batman clean up our Streets for us until now-"

"-Things are worse than ever!"

Wayne glanced over at the heckler, an unmovable expression passing over his face. The crowd was again angry, as crowds in Gotham generally were. Dent hadn't given in, however, and leaned over the podium with an impassioned flair, making eye contact with each of the interrupting crowd members as he continued.

"Yes, they are. But the night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming."

Finally, the crowd hushed and was willing to let Harvey continue with no objection.

"One day, the Batman will have to answer for the laws he's broken- but not to us, not to this madman. We'll save a life by letting Batman run free, justice has never been so easy."

An obvious wave of inspiration passed over the reporters and aggressive objectors, a shift in opinion, the crowd was moved by Dent's words.

It wasn't long, however, before aggression and fear overruled commonsense. A cop brought his hands to his mouth and began to chant. "NO MORE DEAD COPS!"

Dent looked around in disappointment as the crowd blantly agreed to this and broke from his command, he had well and truly lost them.

"So be it."

He looked down at the podium, justifying his decision.

"Take the Batman into custody."

Hungry eyes scanned the room as the public tried to discern who Dent was accusing. Barely noticed in the middle row, Bruce slowly rose from his chair to accept his fate with dignity.

An immediate hush met the room when Harvey Dent offered his own wrists to the awaiting officers.

"I am the Batman."

The loud outcry was nothing to the hundred-or-so camera shutters and general scuffle that met the court in that moment. Bruce was staring, transfixed, as Dent was willingly arrested and dragged from the scene. Reporters were shoving their way to the door to catch a few spoken words from the vigilante, cops were booing loudly, a small handful of the public began to clap in appreciation.

Ultimately, Batman was no longer a hero that Gotham wanted.


	15. Fire And Glass

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

"Excuse me?"

Cat knocked on the driver's window. The elderly man with round spectacles and a tan cowboy hat, almost dropped his coffee, swearing loudly.

"What the hell- "

He trailed off, staring at the woman who had approached his parked truck. Cat smiled, flirtatiously, and pulled her arms tightly beside her chest.

"Can I get a ride, sugar?" She drawled in a high, southern accent. The driver beamed at her, flashing crooked teeth.

"You should be careful honey," He opened the door for her, allowing her long legs to climb into the seat beside him. "It's dangerous to be looking for a ride around here, especially at this time of night."

Her hair was long and platinum blonde, trailing off to curled and blackened ends. Her burgundy lipstick and dark contour contrasted shockingly against her pale complexion. The cat-eye eyeliner widened her forest green eyes and trailed from her eyeline into a razor edge. She was donning black jeans, a black lace shirt, and a purple biker-jacket with cuffs rolled to her elbows. A silver chain looped itself around her waist and hung in tendrils near her thighs.

"Thanks sugar." She fluttered her wide eyes and slowly brought her hands to her waist, he watched excitedly.

"Who knows what could have happened to me if you hadn't come along, that big ol' shotgun beside you probably saved my life."

His attention was broken but for a moment, to admire his sawed-off shotgun gleaming at his arm.

"This was me fathers!" The driver proudly announced and turned back to his alluring companion, only to find the silver belt now held tightly to his throat and cutting off his air supply.

"I'm sure Joker will appreciate that." As Cat snarled this, the driver's door opened and a man in a similar-shade purple coat shoved the driver from the front seat.

Cat kept the man in her grasp as she nodded at Joker, who hummed to himself and gently pulled the seatbelt over his torso.

"C'mon man," Gurgled the purple-faced driver. "Call off your bitch!"

Without hesitation, Joker glared at Cat. "Back." He commanded, she opened her mouth to protest but fell silent again when his glare hardened. The chain was slowly lowered and the driver coughed himself to recovery while Cat crawled past the two men and pouted in the backseat.

* * *

They drove for about 8 minutes, the truck-owner made each turn with white knuckles and continuously glanced over at Joker, as if he would spontaneously slit his throat. Cat turned the belt over in her hands and was almost as nervous as the petrified driver. The plan was so complex that if one variable was miscalculated, they would undeniably be caught.

The truck pulled up to an intersection, where an officer was directing traffic. He noticed the approaching truck and said something rapidly to his walkie-talkie.

"Here we go." Joker mumbled to himself, holding the 'h' in the back of his throat.

"Hey!" The officer looked up at the truck-driver with a scowl, "You wait like everybody else, pal."

He grasped the door handle and waited patiently as the window rolled itself down. Joker picked up the 'heirloom' of a shotgun and sent the officer flying across the road with an orange spark.

"Go, go." Joker commanded the driver when he was too shocked to move. The driver remained petrified, and Joker was eventually forced to kick the driver out of the truck and take the wheel.

"Cat, sweetheart," He called over his shoulder, as the vehicle slowly accelerated. "Loose ends?"

She nodded, took the silver handgun from her pocket, leaned through the passenger window, and fired two precise bullets into the truck-drivers face.

The truck pulled up to tenth avenue, beside looming skyscrapers and brightly lit apartment windows.

"Now?" Cat surveyed the road, expecting something extraordinary to happen. Unsurprisingly, the quiet night remained quiet and Joker replied by pulling a grubby notebook from his breast-pocket.

"Now we wait."

"For?"

"…That."

He grinned as a fire truck motored past the curb and down the street.

"Three," Joker was holding his leather watch to the streetlamps glow. "Two, one-." On his count, the front of the truck sparked and exploded with a flurry of orange and white flames. It skidded to a halt and spun madly in the center of the asphalt. Like a dying animal, it whined and groaned as the tongues of red flame incinerated it from the inside-out.

Cat stared at the bonfire, transfixed, and crawled into the shotgun seat for a better view.

"We're not going to mention it?"

"What?" Joker was still flicking through his notebook, licking the paint off his lips in thought.

"You're pathetic irony?"

"It's funny."

"It's slightly pathetic."

She motioned this between her thumb and her index finger; "Slightly."

Joker shrugged and floored the truck forwards, making a sharp left at the burning firetruck. "You had a better idea for the roadblock?"

Cat pointedly fiddled with her chain belt. Unknowing to the late truck-driver, it was made of a new magnesium-alloy that had the highest strength-to-weight ratio known to man, meaning that it was incredibly lightweight and delicate, but stronger than titanium.

Joker shot her a side-ways glance. "Everyone's a critic."

The truck stopped again, and Joker made a series of complicated honks with the horn as about 8 thugs in clown masks came running from the indoor carpark. They were followed by a grey garbage truck and an obviously blackmailed garbage truck driver.

"Going well boss?"

One of the thugs hopped in the back of their truck and motioned for the rest to follow, they were carrying various shotguns, machineguns, and even a huge bazooka strapped to a thug's back.

"Everything's peachy." Cat stretched herself, smugly, in the front seat while Joker's men glowered at her from the sardine-packed back.

"And onwards!" Joker announced, happily, and directed the two trucks into a long and heavily congested tunnel.

* * *

Lower fifth was the perfect place to funnel out the GPD convey, which was transferring Harvey Dent to County. He was escorted by a SWAT armoured car, three police cars and an overhead helicopter awaiting their return from the tunnel.

But Cat knew that if Joker wanted to get to Harvey, no number of militarised vehicles would get in his way.

She watched as the garbage truck broke away from them, slowing down to drive in the lane beside the troop of security.

"C'mon, c'mon." Joker muttered nervously, and motioned at one of his thugs to take the wheel as he swung himself to the back.

The garbage truck rammed into the last police car, sending it sliding into the opposing lane and slamming into the cement archway, crumbles of sand-coloured rock sprayed over the asphalt and obstructed the heavy traffic. The truck continued to nudge the back of the remaining police vehicle, it too flew from the instructed path and remained motionless as the convoy motored forwards.

The GPD vehicle was now completely exposed from the back, allowing the truck to thrust forward and strike its rear bumper.

"On and on." Cat heard Joker singing from the back while he reloaded a machine gun and hoisted it on his shoulder. Their driver wrenched the wheel leftwards, slamming into the SWAT van and threw it to the concrete pillars barring the road from the river.

With a heavy and painful splash, the van was submerged into the murky depths of Gail River.

Cat held onto the base of her seat for dear life as their driver, seemingly unaware of passenger comfort, dodged the support columns and into the oncoming lane, pulling up beside the isolated GPD car.

"Wanna' join us, sweetheart?"

Joker casually slid the cargo door of their truck open, and smiled at Cat as the speeds rushed through his green and unruly hair.

"Coming."

Cat slid to the back of the van, pulled her own hair into a high-ponytail and shouldering the offered machine gun. She knelt beside the opening and awaited his signal.

Casually leaning towards the road, Joker pointed his silver handgun at the armoured car and let loose a round of thundering bullets, each bouncing off the car's bulletproof exterior with white sparks.

Cat took this as the signal, removed the safety, and fired her own machine gun into the car.

"We should try something else." She called over the rushing wind and gunfire. Despite the violent attempts, the van was merely dinted and riddled with bullet-shape compressions.

At this, Joker dropped his machine gun and waved, irritated, for the RPG carried by one of his thugs. He waited until Cat was safely away from the opening, before firing the bazooka and setting the final leading police car on fire, smoke billowing from its rear bunker and obstructing the van-driver's vision.

"Missed?"

Cat laughed and held out her hand for the RPG, he handed it over with a snarl.

"Can't be an artist without a steady hand." She held it up to her eye and prepared herself to shoot, this time the ammo hit the police cars rear wheel and blasted it up into the air. It was flung from the road and trailed smoke over its skidding and uncoordinated path.

Instead of pouting over his shattered pride, Joker laughed gleefully and pulled Cat to her feet, a proud smirk over his scarred face.

"That's my girl!"

She was caught in the excitement and thrill of the attack, adrenaline coursing through her veins and removing her restraint.

She grabbed the front of his purple coat in a clenched fist and brought him close, crashing their lips together amidst the chaos of the ambush. It was a good few seconds before he reacted, and she readied herself for sharp disapproval and a violent rejection. It was however, slightly staggering to feel his arms snake around her waist and his lips move gently against hers.

"Uh, boss?"

"Hmm?" Joker hummed into her lips, neither breaking away nor so much as looking at his interrupting thug.

"We got company."

It was the low, tiger-like growl of a motorized car that finally tore him from the kiss. Joker leaned out of the truck to glance ahead them, keeping Cat locked firmly in his arms.

"Batsy." He breathed, a maniac grin spreading over his, now slightly smeared, red lips. She felt him squeeze her waist in excitement, moments before the 'bat-car' ploughed into the garbage truck and sent it up into the tunnel ceiling. The truck skidded along the concrete, until most of its exterior was disintegrated and it hit the road without a driver's seat, or a driver.

"Hmm." Joker watched the struggled behind them, retired back into the van and wet his lips in anticipation.

"Stage 2?" Cat asked from his side. She brought her hand up to caress his cheek, tracing the scars in playful admiration. The bat-car spun on its hind wheels to join the GDP van, which was once again exposed.

"One more time? For me?"

Cat grinned at the Joker in reply, and, with the slight hindrance of being attached to his torso, lined up the RPG for another shot.

"Harvey Dent, you little liar." She sang into the eyepiece and fired a perfect shot. The van would've been hit dead-on and incapacitated, had the bat-car not reached them at that moment and launched itself between the bazooka and Dent. Its entire rear now up in flames, the bat-car skidded out of sight and tumbled its way through the pillars, crashing out of the tunnel exit and opening a gaping hole into the night.

A large chunk of fallen debris hit their drivers head, killing him instantly and bringing their truck to a complete stop. Cat kicked their driver in annoyance and looked back for instruction, Joker was storming around the side of their truck, muttering to himself as wrenched open the driver-side door.

"Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent."

He pulled the deceased driver from the seat and threw him to the asphalt in disregard. "Oh, excuse me, I wanna' drive."

Cat grimaced at Joker behind the wheel, he was grinning a little too widely for the promise of safety. As expected, the truck slammed itself repeatedly into passing cars, seemingly just for laughs as Joker giggled himself silly.

"Where'd you learn to drive?" Cat shrieked as a pickup truck was smashed to the adjacent lane.

"Learn?"

Joker glanced at her, beaming.

The GPD van was in their sights now, just as it made a sharp right and exited the underground. The remaining few thugs were thrown violently from the truck's open sides as Joker mimicked the GDP's route.

"I like this job." He regarded the fallen thugs through the side mirrors. "I like it, I do."

Cat couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm, and looked back to the disappearing tunnel behind them.

"Think Batman found his feet?"

"Oh, he's not giving up just yet, sweetheart."

Overhead, the rattling sound of a helicopter tore through the nights silence as it hovered above the GDP van rearing for attack. Joker signalled his awaiting thugs through a walkie-talkie.

"Okay, rack them up." He continued to mutter these words, as men in the surrounding fire-escapes fired cable guns from their seventh story position. The cables criss-crossed between the overhead buildings, pulling taut and awaiting the helicopter.

It hit them with its nose, throwing off its careful balance and ploughing it around the sky in violent loops. The helicopter's tail caught a nearby building, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. It struck the ground, hard, and barrel-rolled towards the GPD van in a ball of flame.

The driver dodged it by a hair and changed lanes again in an attempt to throw Joker off their tail. He howled in laughter at the passing wreckage of the helicopter.

Cat ducked to avoid a chunk of rudder that implanted itself in her seat, and didn't see the steel debris launch through her window.

It struck her below the ribs, the steel pipe jutting out of torn clothing.

"Fuck." She winced, breathing hard, and tenderly felt her wound. It was raw and deep, but plugged by the pipe so the blood flow was thin.

"What is it?"

Joker glanced over at her, she quickly wrenched the debris from her gut and used her jacket to hide the wound.

"Nothing." She managed in a normal tone, the last thing this mission needed was to be jeopardised by her inability to stay alive.

Cat looked ahead to see a motorbike emerge from a side alley in a cloud of smoke and fire. It pulled out in front of them, the silhouette of Batman looming over the bike, and raced towards their truck at impossible speeds. She regarded Joker to see if he was finally afraid, however he was smiling again.

"Now, there's a Batman."

The motorbike was rapidly approaching them now, aimed straight for the trucks front. Neither he nor the Joker were backing down.

"Ooh, you wanna play? C'mon."

He licked his lips again and leaned over the steering wheel in manic determination. Cat was less enthusiastic about this idea, and grabbed his arm in terror.

"What are you doing?!"

At her yell, Joker hesitated, the wheel turned slightly, and the truck lost control.

Batman saw the uncertainty, and took this distracted opportunity to fire two harpoons into the truck's bumper, zooming past them and down the street.

"He missed." Joker growled, disappointed.

Cat was busy trying to breathe again as the wound reaffirmed itself in painful stabs, blood seeped through her shirt and reflected the glow from the burning street.

The sound of a taught cable below their feet was the only warning of the entire truck lifting off the ground, tail first, and flipping over in the air. Cat was thrown from her seat and was airborne for a second, before the whole thing came crashing back to the road upside down. It skidded over the asphalt with an ear-splitting screech and came to rest in a mangled heap of steel and glass.

She pulled her leg from the collapsed wreckage and crawled out onto the street, clutching her ribs and coughing deeply.

"J-Jo…!"

Her knees met the ground, the street was still spinning around her and the crash ringing in her ears.

"J…Joker?!" She finally spluttered and glanced back at the truck, to see the Joker crawling out from the driver's side with a machine gun in his hands, he stumbled for a moment in a daze, before tripping over a piece of debris and getting back on his feet.

"Come on, come on." She heard him muttering to himself and fire randomly at oncoming traffic.

She tried to stop him, but her legs wouldn't move and she was helplessly watching Joker go head-to-head with a motorbike.

"Come on. Come on. I want you to do it, I want you to do it. Come on!"

That bastard was going to get himself killed, Cat sat back on the ground in defeat, her eyes shut tight, trying to ignore the waves of agonising pain that targeted her chest. The distance between the two figures was lowering, rapidly, and any second now Batman would hit and kill Joker. The very thought broke her, and she fell to the ground, her head hitting the road and her hands clutching at her bloody chest.

There was a squealing sound as brakes were put under immense pressure, and a heavy object slid down the street.

Cat opened her eyes and lifted her head; Batman was lying near the burning truck, his bike destroyed and his morale tested.

"Thank you."

Her words were barely a whisper and she knew it was impossible for the vigilante to hear.

"Thank you."

Cat's eyes fluttered and she could barely discern that someone was running towards her. Strong arms wrapped around her middle and lifted her to a sitting position, her head lolled forwards. Someone ripped her shirt apart from the damaged hole to reveal the wound, there was a weak sound of distress, just as the entire world vanished from view.

* * *

Joker shrugged off his coat and draped it over the unconscious Caterina, she was alive, and would remain alive until 'Stage 2' of the plan was completed.

He flounced over to the fallen Batman, where a few of his thugs were already trying to remove his mask. Just as one pulled at the mask, a blue electric current pulsed through him and sent him flying backwards, smoke rising from his clothing.

Joker fell into a fit of mocking laughter, and kicked the fallen thug heavily while dancing around him, the rest of his men remained at a distance.

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket, clicked it open, and knelt beside the batman with baited breath. It was such a special moment for him, he didn't want to rush it and end Batman's life too quickly.

The barrel of a gun prodded his neck from behind, he sighed in frustration.

"Could you please just give me a minute?"

The man threw him off the Batman by his shoulder and pointed the gun between his eyes.

He was, unmistakably, Jim Gordon, back from the dead and in SWAT member uniform. He was breathing hard, the right side of his face heavily bruised.

"We got you, you son of a bitch!" He spat and stepped hard on Joker's outstretched arm, causing him to drop the switchblade to the road. Armed guards circled him and his thugs from all sides, an unnecessary number of guns pointed at the Joker's head.

"Sir!"

Gordon glanced up as Joker was placed into handcuffs and walked to the back of a police car. A cop was standing over Cat, shining a flashlight over her face.

"It's Morgan, we found her!"

With the Joker finally secured, the group of police began to clap and cheer as the kidnapped woman was finally rescued.

"Let me see!"

Gordon ran over to the stretcher they were lying her on and turned her face, he smiled in relief.

"Should we take her to the hospital, sir?" The young policeman looked up at Gordon, fitting an oxygen mask over Cat's head.

"No," Gordon shook his head. "I'm not losing her again, not on my watch. Take them both to Major Crimes Unit. Set up a medical team in my office and I want guards at every entrance, no one goes in and no one goes out until Morgan's been looked after. And for God's sake, get her some clothes."

"Yes, sir!"

She was carefully placed in the back seat of a police car, the oxygen mask clouding as she breathed and Joker's coat still covering her torso.


	16. The Second Stage

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

The Joker was sitting, stock-still, in the holding cage at MCU.

A guard near the entrance was riffling through the objects found in his position, namely a series of razor-sharp switchblades. He gently placed the knives along a metal bench and picked up the final object, very much unlike the others.

"What's this?"

He turned the pearl earring in his gloved fingers and held it up to the light, it shone dimly.

"Careful with that." Joker's soft reply was barely audible over the Holding Cell's general chorus of sounds. "It's…one of a kind."

The guard smirked, sliding it into his pocket.

"Is it now?"

Joker remained seated and didn't flinch. Despite his running makeup, his torn and dirtied clothes; there was an odd dignity to his calm.

"Stand away! All of you. I don't want anything for his mob lawyer to use, understand?"

Gordon entered the room with an escort of policemen, he was directly addressing the security guards who were eyeing Joker resentfully, batons held at the ready. Gordon approached the cage with slow and deliberate footsteps, Joker glanced up at him, rubbing his hands together.

"We found her," Gordon was a few feet from Joker's sitting bench. "I don't know why you took Morgan, and I don't know what you did to her but you will pay for your crimes. She's safe, and you're going to county."

Joker chewed on the inside of his cheek, hiding a smile behind his stagnant expression.

"It's not her safety I would worry about." He murmured, blinking up at him innocently.

* * *

When Cat woke up, the moon was barely glinting through the early sky and fine drops of rain peppered the large, glass window.

The room was lit with yellow, low hanging light, giving her surroundings an odd and shadowy appearance.

"Can you hear me?" Someone above her called, and a small flashlight was directed into her eyes.

"Response is looking good. How's the pulse?"

"30 bpm, could use some adrenaline."

She felt a pinch in her outer thigh as a needle entered her skin and her heart began to beat faster, giving her the energy to sit upright.

"Whoa," The doctor grabbed her arm to stop her rapid movements. "Slow down, you're safe."

Cat stared at the faces, the man had neat red hair that curled behind his ears, the woman had a dark complexion and coils of black hair pulled back into a bun.

"I'm Doctor Walker, this is Nurse Bradwin." She nodded at the man beside her, who waved in response. "Now the officers are going to want to ask you a few questions, but we'll make sure you're okay first."

They were talking to her like she was a child, and scurrying around her with the medical equipment like she wanted their help. Cat looked down at the makeshift table she was lying on, a drip was tethered to her forearm and bandages were wrapped securely over what she assumed was a chest of stitches.

"Clothes?" She demanded, feeling slightly exposed in just her underwear. Doctor Walker nodded at a nearby office chair, where a small pile of neatly folded clothes sat.

"We found some old police uniforms, you can borrow these until we get you to the hospital. Commissioner Gordon wanted to keep you safe until that 'Joker' could be moved to county."

This caught Cat's attention, she slowly pulled the drip from her arm.

"And where's he keeping Joker?"

"Don't do that," Nurse Bradwin pulled her hands away from the drip. "He's in the holding cells, downstairs, don't worry, we have you under maximum security."

Cat cocked her head, subtly wrapping her fingers around a nearby scalpel.

"That won't hold him," She muttered darkly. "Or me."

* * *

Jim Gordon pushed through the swarm of detectives at MCU.

They were all crowding around the observation room, where the Joker could be seen through the glass window sitting patiently at the interrogation desk.

"Has he said anything?"

Gordon turned to officer Ramirez, who shook her head grimly. He pushed open the heavy door and entered the room. The Joker was shrouded in darkness, the white light of the desk lamp illuminating his face in a grisly way.

"Evening, Commissioner." He held the 'r' in a satirical way, nodding respectfully.

Gordon sat on the adjacent steel chair and intertwined his fingers.

"Harvey Dent never made it home."

The Joker seemed surprised at this comment, and innocently swung his arms beside his chair.

"Of course not."

"What have you done with him?"

Once again, he appeared stunned. "Me?" Joker's gaze flitted around the room. "I was right here." He lifted his arms to make a point and jangled his handcuffs in Gordon's face.

The Commissioner stared past his bloodstained fingers, the accusing look not falling from his eyes.

"Who did you leave him with?" Joker pointed at Gordon and raised his eyebrows. "Hm? Your people? Assuming, of course, that they still are your people and not Maroni's." He ran his tongue over his lips and glanced over Gordon's shoulder. "Does it depress you, Commissioner, to know how alone you really are?"

He stared the psychopath down, his figure immovable.

"Does it make you feel responsible for Harvey Dent's current predicament."

"Where is he?"

"What's the time?" The Joker remained, ever innocent, eager to help the distraught Commissioner.

"What difference does that make?" Gordon raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

"Well, depending on the time," Joker motioned with his hands. "He may be in one spot or several." He licked his lips again and smiled at Gordon, who pulled a silver key from his pocket.

"Why did you want Morgan? Why'd you let us get to her? -Oh, don't give me that," Gordon waved his hand at Joker's hurt expression. "I know we wouldn't've found her if you hadn't wanted us to. So, what's the catch?"

"Catch?" Joker asked, biting his bottom lip. "I think the catch is; you think too much Commissioner. You want everything to have a reason, a motive. Did you ever consider that the 'Caterina Morgan' you know and love was never found?"

Gordon was taken back by this, and slowly unlocked Joker's handcuffs.

"If we're going to play games, I'm going to need a cup of coffee."

He stood up and made for the door, the slight droop of his shoulders surrendering his weariness.

"And a new medical team." Joker sang across the room, grinning wildly. Gordon made no reply, and left the Joker to sit in silence.

The overhead lights blinked to life, filling the room with blinding fluorescent light. Joker was disorientated for a few moments in the harsh glare and didn't hear footsteps behind him.

With a sickening crack, Batman slammed the Joker's head into the desk and stepped around to face him, while Joker clicked his jaw.

"Never start with the head, the victim gets all fuzzy, can't feel the next-."

Batman's fist crashed onto his left hand and flattened his fingers into the steel table. He flinched, but otherwise showed no signs of feeling pain.

"See?" Joker opened his eyes again and gloated to Batman.

"You wanted me. Here I am."

"I wanted to see what you'd do, and you didn't disappoint." Joker checked his forehead for blood, before regarding the vigilante seriously. "You let five people die, one poor girl get captured. Then you let Dent take your place. Even to a guy like me, that's cold."

Batman reached across the desk, pulling Joker to him by the scruff of his shirt. "Where's Dent?"

"You have all these rules and you think they'll save you?"

Batman plastered him to the nearby wall, his feet dangling above the ground.

"I have one rule." Batman growled, his forearm forcefully pushing against Joker's throat.

"Oh. Then that's the rule you're going to have to break to learn the truth."

"Which is?"

Joker struggled under Batman's hold, trying to pry his arm from his windpipe.

"The only sensible way to live is without rules. And tonight you're gonna' break your one rule."

"I'm considering it." He laughed at Batman's threat, the smug expression never faltering.

"There are only minutes left, so you'll have to play my game, if you want to save one of them." He finished with relish and grinned again.

"Them?"

"You know, for a while there, I thought you really were Dent. The way you threw yourself after her-" Deranged laughter bounced off the walls as Batman dropped the Joker, wrenched his ankle over his head and flipped him onto the desk. Joker groaned slightly, while Batman pulled a bolted-down chair from the ground and wedged it under the door handle, blocking Gordon's entry.

"Look at you go!" He had blood running down from his nose and forehead, his makeup was blurred and fading; but Joker was smiling like he'd won the lottery.

The Batman stormed up to him, grasping the back of his head, and hurled him into the two-way glass. It splintered, thin cracks spidering across the surface.

"Killing is making a choice." Joker smiled up at him from the floor and licked his lips, only to receive a sharp blow to the cheek.

"Where are they!?" Batman's anger only seemed to feed Joker's resolve, and each blow widened his smile.

"Choose between one life or another. Your friend, the district attorney, or his blushing-bride-to-be."

Another punch landed on his temple. Joker began to laugh maniacally, until the laughs seemed to blur the line between hysterics and sobbing.

"You have nothing to threaten me with," He had tears streaming down his eyes, but the smile remained the one thing unbroken. "Nothing to do with all your strength. I'm untouchable."

As if this sparked a thought, Batman lifted Joker off the ground and shoved him against the wall again.

"You're wrong." His voice was low and drenched in hostility. "You screwed up, gave yourself a weakness, the only flaw in your little scheme."

Joker frowned at him, quizzically, chewing on his lip.

"I didn't see before how you could resemble a man, but it's obvious to me now. Tell me where they are or my next target…will be Caterina Morgan."

Finally, his smile was broken. The laughter cut off mid-air and his face contorted into a scowl. "What are you talking about?"

Batman flicked a switch on his brace, several sharp knives jutted out from the mechanism.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking," Batman leaned close, his voice hoarse. "That when I find her I'll show that murderer any form of mercy."

The two of them were caught in a glower, challenging their resolve.

"Dent's at 250 52nd Boulevard. And Rachel's on avenue X at Cicero." Joker finally said, licking his lips and pulling at Batman's grip.

Batman lowered him to the floor and stormed from the room, his cape billowing out behind him.


	17. Tale As Old As Time

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Warning: Mild themes in this chapter, I don't go into much detail but it is still there.**

 **Thanks again, I feel like every A/N is just me saying thanks but I do really mean it, I probably would've stopped writing ages ago if I didn't have so much support.**

 **Please please review, literally anything, I love reading what you have to say.**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO- Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

"Get this door open!"

Gordon commanded the guards, pounding on his office door. After Joker's warning, Gordon began to second guess whether Morgan was as righteous as he believed.

An officer kicked the door open and splintered the surrounding door frame, revealing a room devoid of light and sound. The Commissioner motioned for a few of the guards to follow him, slowly entering the room with their guns raised.

The sound of the rain echoed around the room, the sound of dripping water seemed so close to their faces until-

"ARGH!"

One of his men jumped backwards, wiping something off his face, he pointed his gun up to the roof where a dark and soupy liquid appeared to be leaking.

"Give me a boost."

The officer knelt and netted his hands for leverage, boosting Gordon to the roof where he was able to easily lift one of the ceiling panels and crawl up into the vents. The group of officers waited, covering the square hole and remaining alert.

"Ramirez!" Gordon called, his voice heavy.

"Get me two body bags, and a unit-wide search."

* * *

Cat crouched, low, her gaze fixed on the scene below her.

The vent entrance was directly above the observation room and she watched the guard at the door converse with Joker, who was sitting with his legs outstretched.

"I know you're going to enjoy this." The guard rolled up his sleeves and glowered at the seated figure. "I'm gonna have to try and enjoy it even more."

"How far is Gordon's office from this room?"

The guard stopped approaching, his eyes narrowing. 'What does that matter?"

"Well." Joker ran a hand through his messy hair. "If my maps aren't out of date and you haven't obstructed any entrances. And if you are standing there while I'm stalling then it is my belief that-"

The vent came crashing down beside the guard, who jerked backwards at the clamour and drew out his handgun.

"You missed." Joker seemed annoyed and Cat rolled her eyes, kicking the guard below the belt and incapacitating him for a few moments.

"You didn't have him in the right position."

She helped him to his feet, and he stared up at the ceiling with his hands on his hips.

"Huh." Joker seemed genuinely perplexed at his inaccuracy, before advancing on the guard with the given scalpel.

"New clothes?" He regarded her casually, and restrained the guard to his chest with the threat of the scalpel.

"You look like a cop."

Cat ripped the badge from her chest, pulled off the utility belt and holster, undid a few buttons of the blue button-down, and took her hair out of its messy ponytail.

"Better?"

He grinned, licking his lips.

"Sexy cop" was his intelligent remark.

* * *

The two backtracked through the buildings intertwining halls, until they shuffled into the Detective's Room.

The man was still held at scalpel-point, and there was an outcry when the trio entered the dimly lit and musty smelling space.

The cops slowly drew their weapons, aiming at the man in Joker's arms and Cat who was sheltering behind.

"This is my own damn fault! Just shoot him!"

The cop was sweating profusely and awaiting gunfire, though none followed. Instead, a detective stepped forwards and lowered his firearm.

"What do you want?" He asked, and the surrounding guns were also lowered, with less enthusiasm and more mistrust.

"I just want my phone call." Joker remarked with an air of innocence, this caused the men to glance at each other in confusion.

Cat stepped forwards and held out a hand, her eyes glittering.

"Morgan?" The detective looked sullen and cautiously handed her the phone. "I was assigned your case, what happened?"

Cat regarded him with little interest, and passed the phone behind her.

"For the first time in my life," She grinned. "I met an honest man."

The Joker winked at her, and dialled a number on the phone. She counted to five in her head, and a booming rumble echoed from the floors below.

"C'mon."

Joker grasped her elbow and made a bee-line for the smoking stairwell, chuckling gleefully to himself.

Below, the holding cell was a heap of rubble and crushed corpses, the grey ash that fell like snow upon them was all that remained of the carefully planted bomb.

Joker stepped over a cop's charred remains, and up to a small cell, where he smirked at the habitant.

"Why, hello there."

Cat stared at the cowering man in the corner, he was of Asian descent, and seemed absolutely petrified.

"Caterina, this is Mr Lau, he will be very entertaining."

Out of nowhere, seemingly whenever he willed it, Joker's thugs entered the room with guns and waited to escort them out. Three police cars were parked for their escape, and this time Joker let his men drive Lau in one car, while he and Cat sat in the back of another.

"What did you think?" He asked once they had settled in and were hurtling down the road. "Did you have fun?"

Cat crossed her arms over her chest, pointedly ignoring him.

"S'matter?" His arm clamped around her shoulder and brought her violently to his chest.

"You look unhappy, sweetheart."

"How did you know I would be in Gordon's office?"

Joker was taken back by her accusatory tone, and let her break away from the side-hug.

"I don't know wha-"

"You needed me there at the exact time, how did you know I would get hurt."

"Oh, speaking of…" He tugged her shirt out of the pants and began to unwrap the careful bandages, keeping it rolled to her diaphragm to expose her midriff.

"Let's see how they did."

The wound was closed and clean, fine black stitches marked a horizontal line across her gut and blemished the otherwise-perfect skin.

"Beautiful," He leaned forwards and carried his lips over the ridges of the wound, tracing it with light kisses. From the front seat, both thugs were watching them through the rear-view mirror.

Cat ignored the sparks tingling across her skin with every contact, and shoved him roughly to the other side of the car.

"I deserve some fucking answers!"

The hungry look died from his eyes and he straightened, brushing the hair from his face.

"I didn't know, I just improvised."

"And that's the truth?"

He shrugged, moved back over to her, and pushed her down into the leather with a harsh shove.

"Believe what you want, it doesn't matter. But I am always honest to you."

She attempted to get up, but he had both arms firmly holding her in place and had repositioned his body weight over her own.

"I-I think I may have misled you." She slurred, her eyes fluttering and struggling to keep her mind focused as he kissed her neck.

"Hmm?" He hummed into her hair, gliding his arms down her torso to rest on her exposed waist.

"I'm not…that kiss…I don't…"

She was trying to say that she wasn't interested in casual sex, but she was struggling to breathe, much alone talk. Cat intertwined her hands around his neck to pull him into a deep kiss, her legs lifting to curl around his waist.

It was a blur, a strange swirling of face paint and skin, lips and scars.

She struggled to find her voice again, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth she would entertain the two drivers a little too much.

"I want," Cat murmured between kisses to her mouth and neck. "I want to be yours."

Joker froze against her collarbone, his breathe hitched in his throat.

She noticed his hesitation and pulled away to discern his expression; he was dazed, and somehow, fearful.

"Did I say something wrong?"

As she asked this, the car turned into the abandoned hotel and parked itself outside the front doors, none of the four inhabitants left.

Joker sat up and wiped some of the smeared makeup from his face, leaving her lying in the leather seat with dishevelled clothing and an empty space where his body should be.

"Joker, did I say something?"

He scowled, redid his shirt buttons, and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. His thugs followed suit, less willingly, and Cat was alone in the car to consider chasing after him, or letting his ungrateful ass leave.

* * *

"You son of a bitch!"

Cat stormed into the lounge, marching up to Joker who was lying casually on the couch and shuffling through a deck of cards.

"I don't even get an answer? I'm not worth the effort it takes to piece together words? You ungrateful, selfish, misogynistic bastard!"

She kicked him hard in the gut and swung her fist into his jaw, striking it with a crack that burst blood from her knuckles.

"What did I say when I took that bullet for you?" He casually spat a few drops of blood to the floor, and feigned irreproachability, when she didn't answer he pressed on.

"I said that I don't care about anything, I meant it. "

Joker licked the lips that she had grown to memorize, every crisscrossed scar, every indentation, every perfect piece of him.

"Say it then," Cat knelt beside the couch, almost desperate for answers. "Say you don't care about me, that you never cared."

Joker couldn't say those words, and they both knew it. She sighed, and brought her hands to her forehead.

It was her fault, this mess, her own pain, she caused it all when she fell for this madman.

"You know." Despite everything, she smiled.

"You just admitted that you did take that bullet for me."

These words had a strange influence on him, and he jumped from the couch in unexpected enthusiasm. Playing cards flew from his grasp and littered the wooden flooring.

"And you," Joker approached her, slowly. "You were wounded by the helicopter, and you helped me escape from the MCU, you're not a weakness."

She laughed in disbelief, his looming figure filling her with anxieties she didn't know existed.

"Why the hell would you think I was a weakness? We help each other and that's why we succeed."

He cupped her face, beaming as if she'd told him excellent news, but Cat was wiser this time.

"No, no, no." She sang in disapproval. "We're not doing it like this, not again."

Joker replied by lowering his lips over hers, proving again that she was powerless to deny his touch. She just wanted to hold him closer, to ignore any restraint or fear that tugged her mind from him.

He leaned forwards and captured her ear between his lips, whispering as he did so; "I want to be yours."

And with nothing to hold him back, he was surprisingly aggressive in the way he hoisted her from the wall and slammed her into it again, their breathing ragged and their bodies intertwined.

She found the common sense to break their kiss; "Not here."

With her legs still straddling him, Cat gasped as he easily took her body weight around his torso, and carried her across the hall to a neighbouring room.

Luckily, the bathroom was unoccupied for the moment, and Joker fumbled with the lock for a few seconds, a task made surprisingly difficult while their lips were welded together.

They proceeded through the shower doors. Cat was again held roughly against the tiles, her hands were tangled so many times through his hair, that she was able to easily hoist her legs around him again.

Joker must've lent on the water tap, because warm water exploded from the showerhead and instantly drenched the two of them. She was being kissed too deeply to care.

Before long, white, black, and red paint was running down the sides of her body and pooling at their feet in a gruesome rainbow.

Clothes were clogging the drain, and the water splashed at their movements, sending the diluted paint over the entire glass cubicle.

Cat looked down and laughed at the sight, the swirling paint staining their skin in the gritty realism of what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. Their bodies couldn't be closer if they tried.

She paused, letting the water run down her face and slick her hair back. Joker dropped his hands from her neck, to entangle them in her fingers

"It's madness to think anything good might come out of this mess." He sighed, deeply, an odd melancholy note in his voice.

She could do nothing but smile and kiss him lovingly.

"If this is madness." Cat retraced his scars with the tip of her thumb. "I never want to be sane again."

"Show me."

Cat found herself reaching down, into the pockets of the discarded clothing. After locating the object, she brandished it before him with a sultry smile.

Joker was staring at the blade. It was beaded with water droplets and flashing alluringly as she brushed it along her collarbone and bit her lip, teasing him.

"I'll show you."

The skin contorted under the pressure, the point on her chest growing white as she traced her picture. Blood ruptured through the cut and fell down her body like red pearls.

The pain sprung tears from her eyes and sweat from her brow, but these were soon lost and forgotten in the showers stream.

When she was done, she dropped the knife with shaking fingers and tried to swallow the numbness from her tongue. He had been watching her mutilate herself in awe and regarded her artwork with a searching touch.

Beside her left shoulder, in the position of her heart, she had sketched a disfigured but recognizable cartoon heart. And in the center, a single letter 'J'.


	18. Ghosts and Flowers

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Thanks for reading, that's all :)**

* * *

The ash fell like cool flakes of ice, however they branded her skin with incongruous heat.

Cat watched the world crumble, the warehouse walls lying in ruins at her feet. It was an odd feeling, then, that met her heart; a tugging and pulling sensation. Time seemed to gelatinise around her and even her own heartbeat was echoing lethargically in her ears.

He was standing a little way before her, with a grin beyond all others, and leaning over what appeared to be a smoking pile of shattered wood and fabric.

It wasn't like her to feel a wave of nausea upon seeing a dead body, and yet her stomach churned violently.

She rubbed the smoke from her eyes, a last reminder.

"You didn't tell me." She wheezed, again, these words seemed to be parroting from her.

"You didn't tell me about…the other bomb."

Joker began to dance his way over to her, humming a bright tune and clicking his fingers.

"My dear, dear, dear Cat." His hands flew to the sides of her devastated face. "I told you, not everything is part of the plan

Caterina tried to find method within this particular madness, but it was as if months of repressed guilt and disgust were forcing their way down her throat, in a confusing haze that was; regret.

Rachel Dawes was dead.

The soon-to-be-engaged woman, with a gentle smile and a hope for love; Cat saw herself, before pain changed her into whatever she was now.

Joker noticed this odd shift in character and his smile twisted into a grimace.

"Don't tell me you're upset-"

"-no, I just-"

"-because as I recall, Dawes was the pesky intruder between you and that billionaire."

Cat sighed in frustration and tried to quieten the screaming thoughts in her head by biting her cheek. She hated the nausea and the ever-growing desire to destroy herself. She couldn't feel this, not now, not after murdering so many with so little of a thought. This much guilt would surely destroy her if she allowed it.

"Sweetheart?"

He was growing concerned, and even the faithful kiss-to-the-neck couldn't dissuade her. There was a dam in her mind, a dam threatening to collapse.

"I need you to hate me again!" She finally shouted, and shoved him from her so violently that he was thrown into the crumbling wood.

Joker sat, his legs crossing beneath him, staring up at her with bewilderment.

"H-hate…?"

Cat could only nod and felt tears prickle in her eyes.

"I…You managed to break me…"

"I actually think I fixed you."

She waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Whatever, I need that again, I need to be fixed, locked up. Anything that…stops the voices." She dwindled in her surety, and was suddenly faced with the fear of what she was asking. Joker was less hesitant, and was nodding with odd enthusiasm.

"I think I have just the medicine, sweetheart."

He grinned and sauntered back to the waiting van, muttering directional orders to the driver.

* * *

The drive was long and quiet, soon the sun peeked over the horizon and Cat felt her head nodding, she hadn't slept in a few hours and it only hit her that taking care of her health hadn't been on the top of her list in a long time.

They pulled up to a string of old country houses, a rarity in the apartment-ridden Gotham. A single white colonial house was standing proudly amidst a field of sunflowers, the rising sun painting everything with a beautiful golden shine. It seemed peaceful, the kind of house that you imagine growing old in, watching life from a rocking chair on the porch.

Cat stepped out of the car and waited, generally confused but pleasantly surprised.

"It's beautiful," she sighed, wistfully, "Do you own it?"

"If by own it you mean I killed the family that lived here," He drawled lazily, before smiling at her. "Then no, I don't own it."

The wooden stairs groaned under their weight and the splintering handrails told her that the house hadn't been maintained or visited in a long time. It seemed so out of place, and Joker's figure brandishing the front door to her stood out like a weed amidst a garden.

Beside the house and a falling picket fence, a droopy silhouette hung from a wooden stake and for a moment, Cat thought a person in ragged clothing was swinging gently in the breeze.

"Creepy." She nodded at the scarecrow, and decided to avert her gaze.

A few distant songbirds awoke, readying their morning call as Caterina and Joker entered the dusty home.

Slivers of sunlight peeked through the shuttered windows and illuminated the quaint wooden flooring and grey floral wallpaper. There was no furniture, nothing to indicate a resident and Cat guessed it had been emptied a long time ago.

"Well?" Cat asked, once they were standing in the centre of the small sitting room. "What are we doing here?"

"This is where I kept it."

"Kept what?"

He tapped his nose in reply, and motioned for her to remain while he ventured further down the adjoining corridor.

Something glinted in the sunlight and Cat's gaze was torn from Joke's retreating figure. It appeared to be some sort of plaque, ringed by splintered wood and rusting. She walked up to the wall and ran her finger over the indentation, mouthing the words as she read.

"…Circa 1929, Crane Family, who's the Crane Family?"

She turned again to Joker, who was watching her from the doorway with a strange metal object in his gloved hands.

"Just an old friend."

"Friend?"

"Enemy." He admitted with a chuckle and a lick of his lips. Joker proceeded to close the front door slowly, the hinges squeaking ominously until the two of them were isolated from the outside, the room thrown into sudden darkness.

Cat ignored the growing feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, and casually leaned against the peeling wallpaper. Joker pulled a green gas mask out of his coat pocket, and fitted it over his unruly hair. She held out her hand, but instead was given a simple shake of the head.

"What are you-?"

The metal cylinder left his grasp and rolled along the floor to her boots, where it sat for a moment before exhaling a puff of strange green smoke. Instinctively, Cat held her breath and brought her leather coat to her mouth, trying to filter out the gas. Joker shook his head again, already disappearing amidst the haze, and motioned taking deep breaths with his arms.

She was undeniably distrusting, and waited until her legs shook from the act before finally letting air into her lungs. The great gulps of oxygen were stale and tasted horribly acidic, burning her throat. An unpleasant light-headedness met her, and the floor began to tilt bizarrely. Cat tried to grasp the wall for support, but it seemed to melt under her touch and she instead came crashing into the psychedelic floor-boards.

Muffled footsteps echoed before her, and she managed to raise her head amidst the confusion. Except it wasn't the Joker who loomed above her. His head poking through the thickening green cloud, Ash stared at her with his wide brown eyes.

Blood soaked his golden locks, his strong cheekbones and light stubble were horrible scarred and deformed by the bullet wound and many scrapes. Cat screamed silently, grasping at the floor to find some form of support.

"Ashton?" She whispered, feeling her eye makeup run down her chin in a tear-soaked mixture. He didn't move or speak, a ghostly statue only existing to torment her. Cat finally found her movement, rising uncertainly to her feet and staring up at her older brother. He continued to gaze past her, his hand moving soundlessly to hold it out in front of her.

A single handgun was brandished in his grey palm.

"What do- "

His handsome face contorted into a snarl, and he shook the gun in front of her face to bring attention to it. Cat took the gun slowly from him, half-expecting it to be as ghostly and jelly-like as the wall was moments ago. However, her fingers closed around the hilt and felt the textured rubber solidly beneath her palm.

Heat exploded through her hand and she tried to drop the gun, in her panic the gun aimed itself and fired a sudden bullet that recoiled her wrist painfully. Cat looked up suddenly, her heart exploding through her chest and fear bubbling in her stomach like a poison.

Ash was no longer before her, instead the gas cloud was disrupted in the silhouette of his fallen body, where blood was pulling from a bullet wound.

"No." Cat shrieked, and rocked back onto the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest.

"No, no, no!"

A familiar, manic laughter erupted around her. She looked around for the well-known face, but Joker's laugh seemed to be coming from numerous figures surrounding her, a crowd of ghostly spectators. Among them were faces she recognised, pale grey and translucent but nevertheless she saw her mother's unnatural beauty and her father's resting smirk. Mark, and his wife Janine, standing hand-in-hand and holding a bundle of baby blankets. Bruce Wayne was dressed in his usual tux and was chuckling beside Harvey and Rachel, who both seemed to be dressed for a wedding.

The laughter condensed and developed into a sort of hypnotic rhythm.

A funeral march, clear as day.

The crowd parted, without making any form of physical movement, and they all turned to a particular spot on the crushed leaves. Cat's surroundings had melted into a dreary autumn hilltop, a Japanese maple was sprinkling orange leaves like acid rain over the crowd, and a nearby bird screeched to the funeral tune.

Cat walked up the hill, her footsteps crunching like broken bones, and she knelt beside the area of interest. It was a gravestone, crumbling, decrepit, neglected. No flowers were laid in respect, and the crowd around her had soundlessly disappeared. She pulled a large maple leaf off the stone in an attempt to read the name, it was barely readable as many years had worn down the name. A date jumped out at her, a date that she knew far too well.

'September 26th, 1990'

Cat no longer needed to read the name, and felt absolutely sick to her stomach until she read the remaining line.

'Beloved sister.'

And then she felt as if she would pass out.

That was it, all she was at the end of the day, her legacy and her story, all created around Ashton, all created around a lie.

And suddenly it all became clear.

She was no longer afraid and no longer filled with unimaginable regret, the gas ventilated through the open window and the funeral hill disappeared. Cat was back in the old country home, lying on her back and staring at the time-stained ceiling.

She felt remade, a new person, she jumped to her feet with a burst of energy and wiped the makeup from underneath her eyes. Joker was eating a green apple, almost obnoxiously, casually leaning against the front door and flicking open his switchblade.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah." She honestly replied, and despite her trembling voice she felt extremely elated. Cat walked up to him and took the apple from his grasp, biting into it and enjoying the burst of sour.

"Let's go kill someone, please? I've got a stain to make on society."

Joker laughed at this, pulling her close by the waist.

"Absolutely," He sang, sweeping his tongue over his lips. "But first- "

He pulled her into a deep kiss, taking the chunk of apple from between her teeth and pulling away with it.

"-Don't eat my fruit."


	19. An Unavoidable Truth

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Fluff ahead, you have been warned :)**

 **Thank you for reading, stay amazing! XOXOXO- Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Commissioner Gordon sighed, and closed the door on the District Attorney.

Several armed guards nodded at him, a vision out of place in a local hospital. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced once more into the brightly lit hospital room.

Harvey Dent was heavily bandaged and hooked up to many beeping machines. He was a broken man, and not only because the left side of his face was completely destroyed in the bombing attempt, but because he was saved instead of Rachel. Gordon should have seen it coming, that Joker would lie about the locations and kill Rachel Dawes, it was more his fault than he would care to admit.

As if sensing his gaze, Harvey turned to the rectangular window and glared at Gordon. The left side of his face was blackened and shrivelled, white molars gleamed through the remains of his cheek and his once handsome grey eye, was nothing but a ball and socket.

Harvey Dent had warned him about his men, that they were crooked and working for the Joker, but Gordon had shaken this off and now Dent was paying the ultimate price, after Rachel and Dent were both easily picked up and taken to remote locations to be killed.

"This craziness, it's too much."

Gordon looked up to acknowledge the murmur, his face twisting into a scowl when he recognised the gang leader, Salvatore Maroni.

"Should've thought about that before you let the clown out of the box." Gordon spat at him, causing Maroni to shift his hands out of his pockets awkwardly. The two were strangely equal in this place, a cop and robber standing eye to eye and conversing like regular civilians.

"You want him?"

Gordon paused, halfway down the corridor, and stared at the mob leader in confused accusation. Maroni sighed, heavy with regret. "I can tell you where he's going to be this afternoon."

"The hell would you know about it? My men have you under constant surveillance."

The Italian let out a short, hollow laugh, fidgeting with his golden watch. "Surveillance? It's protection. If I wanted to leave you couldn't stop me."

Gordon had no answer, and could merely avert his gaze in shameful realisation.

"You made a mistake." Maroni murmured again, as If to himself.

"I know I did, Dawes is on me."

"Who?" Maroni frowned, quizzically, and walked up to Gordon. "Oh, you mean Dent's girlfriend." He waved a hand in disregard. "That one was dead the minute she met Dent, no I mean how you let Joker's pet live."

"Caterina?" Gordon asked. "Joker still got her on a leash? I thought he'd be done with her by now, ended it, a horrible thought but it makes things simpler for us."

Maroni laughed again, his eyes widening in fear. "You cops don't know nothing." He shook his head and trailed off, gazing at a spot over Gordon's shoulder. "I thought it was the way too," he continued, slowly. "The clown is insane, he gets himself a new toy and breaks it in a heartbeat, like a junkie looking for a fix. I hired him to do a job, and I let him have his fun with Morgan because she was a porcelain doll if I ever saw one. But we were all wrong. She's crazier than he is, more than that, she's vindictive. She's a killer with conviction, and that makes her more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

An involuntary shiver ran down Gordon's spine, and he remembered finding the two medics in the ceiling. Morgan hadn't just killed them, she'd tortured them. "Tell me where to find them." Despite himself, his voice was strong and commanding. Maroni shrugged a shoulder and turned on his heel, facing Dent's room.

"You'll see." He called over his shoulder, throwing a phone with an address to Gordon, "Monsters may not be real. But Caterina Morgan sure as hell is."

* * *

Caterina had never imagined what a billion dollars would look like. Perhaps a duffel bag full of bank notes, like in the movies, but seeing the real thing was so much more incredible, and yet disappointing.

There it was, a mountain of bound banknotes in the centre of the rusted hulk. It filled the entire hold, casting a monstrous shadow under the overhead industrial lights. The pile had to be at least thirty feet high. And yet, in this abandoned dock, Cat had never been more disgusted with society. This is what all those crooked businessmen and rapacious-based careers were all fighting for, their very value of person was defined by this hollow crap.

She had never been particularly rich, generally living paycheck-to-paycheck of whatever job she could land, and yet she felt like she hadn't missed out. Money was more overrated than wishing on stars, and infinitely more time wasting.

She picked up a bundle of notes from the outermost edge of the pyramid and studied it carefully. "This is what you wanted?" She looked up at Joker in disbelief, who was standing on the top of the pile with their bound prisoner. Lau was passed out again, he was a coward of a man and Cat had barely removed two toes before he was sweating and unconscious.

Joker pulled on the bonds again, paranoid that Lau would break free before they could have their little show.

"Wanted?' He muttered under his breath. "Such a broad term, there are many things I want, most of them contradict. I want war, but not scheming. I want freedom, but not peace. I want hate- "He looked down at her with a half-smile, his gaze trailing to her low neckline and exposed scar. The heart had closed a few days ago, and was now nothing but a tattoo of rippling and whitened skin. "Well, it's so often those two intertwine."

The sound of parking cars caught their attention, and before Cat could walk to the doors to welcome their guests, an object flew over her head and landed a few feet before her. She squealed in delight, bending down to pick up the metal chain.

"You found it!" Cat fastened the belt through the loops of her black jeans, and twisted her hips to marvel at it. "I thought it was secured at the MCU. Or did you replicate it? Buy it off the black-market?"

Joker seemed offended at her accusations, his hand flying to his chest in disbelief. "Me?" He scoffed. "I'll have you know I broke into that little tea party myself."

She smiled, and ran her hands along the chain, enjoying the familiar comfort. "Hey Joker?"

"Hm?"

"I feel like a billion bucks!"

He threw one of the bundles at her, narrowly missing her head. It was a godawful joke, but he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"C'mon," Cat began to unlock the heavy padlock of the hulk doors. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I hit that." She winked at Joker as four men sauntered past her and up to the impressive pile. She was honoured by the way they pointedly avoided her eye; her reputation evidently preceded her.

A beefy European with a ponytail of greasy hair nodded at the Joker, a cigar held between his lips. He was obviously the infamous Chechen, a high-end thug who had a hand in the Mexican drug cartel.

"Not so crazy as you look." Chechen laughed, cautiously watching Cat approach him. She stopped beside his two enormous Rottweilers, standing guard with her arms crossed. He turned back to the Joker with a smile, just as Joker stepped off the pyramid's head and slid down the pile in a cascade of bank notes. He landed beside Chechen's bodyguards with a flair, his arms raised for applause. Cat clapped, giggling, and turned slowly to Chechen with a wide smile. It took him 1/5th of a second to bring his hands together in a half-hearted clap.

Joker lowered his arms and spun on the spot, surveying the crowd frantically. "Where is the Italian?" He addressed the missing Salvatore Maroni, and turned to Chechen with a questioning gesture, who shrugged in response.

"Dirty snitch." Cat growled, pulling her belt taught and glowering at Chechen. "He was playing for your team, you gonna give us trouble too?"

He shook his head slightly before registering who he was answering too.

"Keep your little _puta_ out of this." Chechen bellowed to Joker, pointing his cigar at him accusingly. Cat knelt beside the dogs, scrunching their ears and cooing loudly.

"Next time you call me that," She planted a kiss over the dog's snout. "You're gonna lose something." She finished with a smile that drained the blood from Chechen's face. Joker grimaced at Chechen, swinging his hand across his neck in a gesture to 'cut it out'.

Cat seemed to select a favourite dog, and was scratching it behind the ears causing its stubby tail to wag furiously. Chechen stared at his war dogs, completely belittled in her company. "Please. Joker-man," He turned back to Joker and decided to ignore Cat's actions. "What you do with all your money?"

"You see, I'm a guy of simple taste." Joker licked his lips in thought, bringing the handgun before him as he gestured his response. "I enjoy dynamite, and gunpowder, and gasoline-"

A nearby thug walked up to the Joker, a silver can of gasoline at the ready. After a nod from his boss the thug began splashing the gasoline around the base of the money-pyramid. Chechen was outraged by this and stepped forward to intervene, only to have Joker's handgun point towards his face.

"-Ah, ah, ah." He jabbed his gun at Chechen's forehead, leaning in close. "And you know the thing that they have in common? They're cheap."

Chechen was watching the handgun carefully, as it drew closer and closer to his temple, beads of sweat were forming over his face but he never broke eye contact with Joker.

"You said you were man of your word."

"Oh, I am." Joker plucked the cigar from his lips, rolling it between his gloved fingers and readying himself to throw. "I'm only burning my half."

A devastated expression crossed Chechen's face as he watched the cash burst into flames, casting a quivering orange glow over the company. Cat could've sworn she saw tears reflected in Chechen's eyes, his men were powerless to stop the defacing of currency and simply stood uselessly beside him.

"All you care about is money," Joker tutted, grinning at his work, "This town deserves a better class of criminal, and I'm going to give it to them." He shoved the handgun against Chechen's shoulder with a challenging smirk. "Tell your men they work for me now. This is my city."

At this Chechen smiled, the smile of a helpless and broken man. "They won't work for a freak." He snarled with a jutted jaw, and Cat stood to the Joker's defence with her belt at the ready.

"Freak." Joker mimicked Chechen's accent and brass voice, brandishing his favoured switchblade wickedly in the glow of the fire. "Why don't we cut you up into little pieces, and feed you to your pooches, hm? And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is."

He nodded at Cat, who sprung on Chechen from behind and fastened the chain several times around his neck, hauling downwards to elicit a choking gurgle from Chechen's throat. From the burning pile of money, Lau's screams were growing louder and more desperate every second. Cat finally pulled the belt taut and felt it slice cleanly through Chechen's neck, wincing as his blood ruined what was a good 'makeup day'.

"It's not about money." Joker muttered, regarded the killing with mild disgust and pulled a cell phone from his coat pocket. "It's about sending a message." He looked over his shoulder again at the bonfire, a wistfulness filling his eyes. "Everything burns."

Cat watched the men slowly file out of the hold. Two dragged Chechen's body by his ankles, another carried his decapitated head. All of them made a pointed curve around Cat, scared to even breathe in her direction.

The bonfire was slowly dying; cash burnt brightly but not heartily, and flakes of white drifted lazily around the room carrying the smell of smoke. She hugged her arms around her chest and shivered in the cool September air that was curling its way into the giant metal container they were residing in; A good place to burn a billion dollars in, not so great for heat conservation.

She looked over to where the Joker was threatening the whole of Gotham on air; they were holding some sort of talk show and this first caller was threatening to blow up a hospital. Cat felt an overwhelming wave of affection at that moment.

Coleman Reese, a small businessman who Cat vaguely remembered from Wayne Enterprise, claimed that he would reveal the Batman's identity; how he learnt this was beyond anyone and yet with the absolute chaos that met them now, Gotham was ready to believe in miracles.

"If Coleman Reese isn't dead in 60 minutes," he was saying into the phone, "then I blow up a hospital." Joker hung up in a flourish and threw the phone into the smouldering remains of the fire, chuckling quietly to himself.

"According to plan?" Cat asked, casually, and strode around the fire to stand beside him.

"Always," he laughed, "I should be blowing up a little hospital in an hour."

She linked her arms through his elbow and watched the last remaining embers die in the hazy light. "An hour," She repeated slowly, "That's a lot of time to kill."

"Is it?" He seemed distracted, even slightly nervous, and he kept tapping his knife against his thigh.

"Hey," Cat turned his face with the tip of her index finger, resting her palm against his cheek. "It's gonna be fine, just relax."

Joker heaved a deep sigh and gently brushed his lips against her hand, seeking comfort. Cat smiled warmly and draped her coat on the cold concrete floor, settling into it with Joker in tow. He sat with his legs outstretched, propping himself up by his elbows and gazing into the smouldering pile. The warmth resonating from it was enough to fill them both with a sleepy comfort, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on his shoulder with a small yawn.

"Strangely romantic." Cat murmured, nodding at the bonfire of money, he hummed in reply.

It was a comfortable silence, then, that enveloped them. A comfort only reached by great affection, and a silence that spoke for itself.

Cat nuzzled into his neck and closed her eyes, trying to memorise this moment in its entire pure form; the smell of the ash, the goosebumps that prickled her skin, the warmth on her face, the perfect way her head seemed to fit between his neck and shoulder like it was made just for her.

Three words were caught in her throat.

Three terrible, wonderful words.

She turned her head to glimpse Joker's expression; orange flames danced from his dark eyes and played across his scarred and painted face in a beauty that seemed unnatural, otherworldly, and impossible irresistible.

She opened her mouth, but the truth wouldn't come out, the blinding truth that could break everything like a bullet to glass. This moment was so fragile, Cat was terrified that these words would shatter it. Instead she rested her hand over his and swallowed the lump of shame in her throat.

Joker curled his fingers around hers and began to play with them gently, his thumb stroking over her knuckles. He traced every vein, every faded scar and crease, until she was sure he had it memorised.

Keeping her hand steady as his canvas, Cat curled her body around his and marvelled at how well she seemed to fit against him and how musical their mingling breaths sounded. No ballad, nor heartbreakingly beautiful love song could even come close to the way she loved the sound of them breathing in sync.

"I-I…" She trailed off, instead turning her face into Joker's coat to cut off the sound, and mime the remaining words against the fabric. It would anger him, revert him into the resentful and defensive man she knew him to be; ultimately, she would lose him and that was no longer even an option.

His hand moved to the back of her head, where he ran his hand through her hair and pulled away the tangles. Goose bumps formed along her neck and Cat shivered in pleasure.

The silence was broken, suddenly and unexpectedly. With barely any movement, Joker murmured under his breath for only her to hear

"I love you."

It wasn't dramatic, but soft, almost murmured absentmindedly. Not because they were in danger and had only a few seconds left together, but because it was a simple and unavoidable truth. Soft, but without a doubt, because it was long established that they loved each other a long time ago, in the kisses they shared, the looks exchanged, the roller-coaster of emotions that had Cat punching him one second and kissing him the next. Cat smiled and shifted her weight to press her face against his, sleepily, not attempting a kiss to cheapen the moment and was content with their foreheads resting against each other, noses brushing, breathing him in.

"I love you too." She replied quietly, merely confirming her affections.

It was incredibly sweet, the kind of scene in a movie that has cynics scoffing and romantics sighing wistfully; 'that will never happen' they both say, because despite what movies want us to believe, love is monumentally rare. Most that find it don't realise it, and those that do realise it too late. The rest settle for companionship, driven by the desperate need not to be alone.

It was sweet, until Joker decided to whisper an invitation against her lips that tingled pink into her cheeks.

"Really?" She shook her head, despite her sadistic nature she couldn't keep the shy smile from her lips, "You wanna ruin it like that?"

"20 minutes." He indicated his watch with smirk, but his eyes were warm and affectionate.

"Let me think about it." Cat teased, pushing him into the jacket with her palm, and leaning above him by her forearms. Her hair trailed down her chin and pooled in a swirl of blonde and black beside his face. Cat kissed the corner of his mouth, softly, their lips barely touching and their fingers intertwined.

In twenty minutes they would blow up a hospital.

But for the moment, they were both in love.


	20. Society's Menace

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Seems like a lot of people liked the fluff. (Could you tell I was listening to sappy music while writing it :) )**

 **Thanks again for reading, favoriting or reviewing, anything you do to follow these two adorable psychopaths.**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO- Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cat hummed to herself, an off-tune rendition of 'Mr Brightside'.

Overhead the sun was glaring off the damp street, another rarity in Gotham; sunshine. Cat rolled her purple jacket to her elbows, enjoying the warmth on her skin, and strolled down the sidewalk in a bopping rhythm.

Around her, the city of Gotham was in complete chaos. Joker's message wasn't only a death-threat for the tattling Coleman Reese, but a 'call-to-arms' for heroic citizens to do what was right. Old rifles were pulled from cupboards, suicidal persons had jumped into their cars to intervene Reese on the road; ultimately Joker had managed to turn the entire population against the committed protectors of the community, even a few cops prioritised an entire hospital over one business man.

Cat's clacking heels paused beside a car, a cherry-red Audi A5, and she surveyed the sports car in interest.

"Pretty." She sighed in awe, and stroked a hand up the scarlet exterior to rest on the driver-side door.

From her navy backpack, she pulled out a wire coat-hanger and a pair of pliers. Cat twisted the hanger into a straight rod, leaving a defined hook at the very end. A wooden doorstopper also came out of her backpack, this she jammed between the upper part of the door and the car and tapped it in with the heel of her hand. Flecks of red paint helicoptered to the asphalt, and after a few moments Cat was able to pry the door a few millimetres away from the car.

She inserted the rod through the gap, guiding it down into the body of the car. Cat was pressed against the vehicle, and so had no visual guidance whatsoever to the small lock button. It took her a few tries, but eventually she pressed the button with the rod, and swung the door wide open. The smell of new car hit her and Cat clapped in triumph, sliding into the leather seat and gripping the wheel happily. She turned the radio on full volume, smiling when 'Sugar Sugar' by The Archies crackled through.

She had a simple task; cause some trouble, inspire some chaos. According to group behaviour, if one person riots against the police and targets Reese, more people should follow.

The Audi raced through the downtown, windows open and mediocre singing mingling with the sounds of bustling traffic.

"You are my candy girl, and you got me wanting you!" Cat sang heartily, turning the police radio at her hip on.

'-We got surveillance on the target, all units to 51st street travelling westbound'. She obeyed the orders with a grin, making a left at the intersection and straining her neck for the escorted policeman. Cat almost felt sorry for the GPD, they just had rotten luck when it came to armed escorts.

Three cars ahead of her, she recognised the black van with yellow lettering, that was a licensed police vehicle. As expected, it was escorted by 2 police cars blaring deafening sirens and warning all to keep their distance; Caterina took this as a personal challenge.

"Like the summer sunshine pour your sweetness over me!" Cat continued to sing, throwing her head back to enjoy the wind streaming through her long hair.

A red car surged past the police van, pulling a few feet ahead with a squeal of tyres. If there was a single policeman interested in road safety at that moment, Cat would've been pulled over for ticket. Luckily it wasn't until Cat yanked on the steering wheel, spun the car on its back wheels suddenly, and continued to accelerate backwards that she was even noticed.

She pulled out her Glock 17 handgun, sung the final verse, "You are my candy girl", and shot the grey 4X4 through the windshield so that it spiralled out of control in front of the GPD van. The van swerved suddenly, striking the curb with a flurry of sparks and sending the following cars into a state of panic. There was a violent stacking, a sandwich of smoking cars and twisted metal, the van continued its ascent and accelerated as hard as it could away from the wreck.

Cat wedged her boot's heel into the accelerator, undoing the laces so she could easily slip into the back seat while the car drove. With the handgun held against the rear window, she fired another two bullets that struck the van's rear-view mirrors and sent them tumbling under the van's hood.

"Suspect vehicle is being driven by a white female, operating vehicle erratically and visibly armed. Yellow team converge down Maryland avenue."

Cat threw the police radio out the window and twisted herself back into the front seat, waiting for the car to pass the ahead island of grass that would give her about a 3 second window of opportunity. Missing the mark would kill her instantly like a bug on a windshield.

She pulled the backpack to her front and hugged it close to her chest, counting down the seconds.

 _10_

 _9_

 _8_

Cat twisted her body slightly so that her shoulder was at an angle optimal for jumping, she tucked her legs into her chest and brought her chin down.

 _7_

 _6_

She kicked open the driver-side door, her hair instantly rushing behind her in the sheer speed.

 _5_

 _4_

 _3-_

-She sprung from the seat, diving towards the dirt with her eyes watering. Her landing was perfect as she hit the ground hard, shoulder-first, and continued to roll for several feet. Despite landing on the soft earth, her clothing was ripped to shreds. Half of her torso was exposed and bleeding with terrible road-rash, both of her kneecaps had skin removed, and a large gash painted her face from her forehead to her cheekbone.

Cat lay there on the side of the road as the van rushed past, tattered, bleeding, but alive and smiling. A few seconds later she heard a horrendous crash, her Audi was pancake flattened beneath the heavily armoured GPD van, and left a mountain of shattered glass and gleaming red metal.

A ringing sound jolted her heart again, and she almost died for the second time that day. Her cell phone was wrapped in a thick shell of duct tape, and turned on brightly when she pressed the button.

 _'Still alive? -J'_

Cat laughed in ecstatic relief, her head landing on a clump of dirt as she gazed at the periwinkle sky. After a few gulps of air, she turned her attention to the phone again and took a selfie, pursing her lips and winking at the camera.

 _'A little…tyred'_

She made herself laugh, and sent the photo and the wonderful joke across.

When she regained a steady heartbeat and the feel of her legs, Cat pulled an outfit from the backpack and began to change. The nurse outfit was slightly…less sexy than she thought it would be. A simple white gown with short sleeves and a tie around the waist, rather unflattering as it gave her body a square appearance.

 _'Waiting. -J'_

"Yeah, yeah." She muttered, annoyed, and wriggled her feet into ugly nurse sneakers that were as comfortable as they were ugly. As a final touch, she pulled her unruly hair beneath a wig of a honey blonde ponytail, smoothing it over her head until it was horridly neat and dull.

Cat stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. Considering she'd just jumped from a moving car, a little concealer across her facial cut was all that was needed to hide it.

"I am fucking incredible." She sang, sometimes a little self-congratulation was necessary.

Cat waved down a passing car, filling her eyes with fake tears.

"Oh, thank goodness." She gushed in a heavy Russian accent, sitting down beside the middle-aged woman who had pulled over. "These cars came from nowhere, I barely escape."

"Need a ride?"

"Gotham General, I need to help evacuations."

The lady had chestnut brown hair barely passing her chin, and wide green eyes lined with heavy makeup. "Sure thing, honey." She nodded, turning the car back onto the main road. "I think you're a hero, just a real hero."

Cat glanced away with a smile, feigning modesty.

"What's the, uh, chain for?"

Cat forgot she still had the chain belt around her waist, replacing the white sash that usually accompanied the outfit. "Oh," She looked down, "I forgot my…sash, luckily I had this thing lying around." The lady seemed satisfied, and completed the drive with mind-numbing small-talk.

Finally they pulled up into the hospital carpark, several policemen were guarding the entrance and Cat's driver strained her neck to view the armed men.

"Doesn't look like they need your help."

But Cat had already ducked out of the passenger door and waved 'goodbye' to her driver, surpassing a smile as she saw her backpack sitting in the shotgun seat.

No, it wasn't an explosive.

Cat felt an odd emotional response when the lady pulled over for her; grateful, indebted. The backpack had several hundred dollars' worth of jewellery in it, some light shopping while Cat perused the street for a car to steal. The jewellry shop was unattended and sparkling with possibility, the old man behind the counter didn't count as he was incredibly generous when she showed him her handgun.

Maybe she was going soft, all this emotional crap with Joker was bringing out her gooey side.

Cat didn't care, she wanted to be drowned in emotional crap if it was with him.

She fingered the silver pendent around her neck, the only part of the steal she'd kept for herself, and walked up to the burly policemen with confidence.

"Excuse me," Her accent was Australian now, and thoroughly convincing given that she'd travelled Australia for a few days with her parents. "I was asked to help with the evacuations."

"Sorry ma'am, no one in or out, Commissioner's orders. All the patients have already been evacuated."

"I see." She replied, thoughtfully, tucking a loose strand of honey blonde hair behind her ears. "But my doctor asked for me specifically, I need to get in there."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that."

"I'd like to see you stop me."

"Huh?"

The heel of her hand flew forwards, striking the first cop with a strong blow to the vagus nerve (located on the neck, just below the ear). He fell to the ground, his neck twitching and his arms in erratic spasms. It was a few seconds before he fell unconscious, the time it took his partner to process the current situation.

"Stand down." He commanded, brandishing a handgun at her chest with a shaky grip. Cat laughed, sprung forwards, and pulled his head into her chest by her right elbow. With her free arm, she reached around his head and slid her forearm under and across his throat. Cat locked her hands together, dropped the choking elbow slightly, and pulled up and into the cop's throat to cut off his air supply.

"When will you cops stop underestimating me?" She tutted as he flailed under her grip, his face changing from fire-truck red to a deep purple in moments.

Eventually his thrashing ceased, and Cat dropped him beside his unconscious partner. She mock saluted with her index and middle finger, before marching through the double doors and into the hospital's main lobby.

It was eerily quiet within, clipboards and medical supplies littered the floors like unwanted garbage and every single room was uninhabited. She spun on the spot, taking in the many interlocking corridors and stairways trailing to two more levels. Cat had never specified a meeting place with Joker, she'd simply assumed he would be waiting in the front lobby.

There was an overhead 'bing', as the speakers came to life, and a familiar voice echoed around the empty corridors.

"Could Nurse Morgan please make her way behind the front desk, Nurse Morgan to behind the front desk. Thank you."

Cat laughed and looked up at the corner speakers, testing his patience.

"Nurse Morgan who is not deaf, please come behind the desk. Thank you. Your ass looks great in that dress. Thank you."

She finally gave in, laughing, and walked up to the empty front desk. Scattered papers and a dishevelled cup of stationary was all that occupied the space, however, and she leaned forwards to glance behind the wooden desk.

Someone grabbed her from behind, lifting her into the air by her torso and spinning her on the spot.

"S-s-t-t-o-p." She hiccupped against the rushing air, to be finally put back on her feet and turn towards her attacker.

Cat laughed for the third time, tears springing from her eyes and her stomach clenching with the strain.

"Oh my… _Fuck_!" She wheezed with sore cheeks. "You said you were going to be a doctor."

Joker was wearing an exact copy of her nurse dress, complete with an 'obnoxiously red' shoulder-length wig and comfortable nurse shoes. He cocked his head, the gruesome smile of his face paint only adding to the hilarity of his ensemble.

"I thought you would be the doctor."

"M-me?"

Cat held up the passes they had secured a few days before. One from a Miss Abbot, a nurse with deep red hair and thick lips, and the other Doctor Bradley, a short balding man with a mole on his cheek.

"You thought I would be-" she paused to read the names, "Doctor Robert Bradley, while you assisted me as Nurse Dolly Abbot?"

He tucked a strand of red hair behind his ears, indignant.

"I could be a Dolly, you've definitely got the chin for a Robert."

She stamped on his foot, hard, and marched down the corridor with her nose in the air.

"Wait, Robert, I'm sorry," Joker ran up behind her. "You are the sexiest woman alive and you know it."

Cat swung her hips as she walked, glancing over her shoulder with a sultry smile and a nod.

The 'absolute circus' that was the two of them finally stopped outside a hospital room, the only room Cat had seen to be closed. On the door, there was a plastic pocket attached with Velcro, and a few information papers slipped inside. Cat read the first briefly, noting the written name and ailment info.

'Harvey Dent. Severe burns to left side of face'

Joker opened the door with a flourish, bowing his head. "After you."

"Thanks Dolly."

She pecked his cheek quickly, before entering the small hospital room to meet the last patient left in Gotham General.


	21. All's Fair In Love And War

Yvonne took another sip of coffee, scanning the document before her in mild concentration.

"I made you something."

She looked up in surprise, smiling as Cat held an object in front of her.

It was a scrap of paper, torn crudely from an office notebook. The paper was yellow and margined with horizontal cyan lines. On the sheet Cat had drawn a beautiful rendition of Yvonne's face, all in blue ballpoint.

"They wouldn't give me proper pencils." Cat admitted, slightly embarrassed by the lack of professional technique. It was, perhaps, even more impressive given that Cat had managed to draw such artwork with a cheap pen.

Yvonne kept forgetting that Cat had such a talent.

"It's beautiful." Yvonne smoothed the paper over the wooden desk, tracing the portrait with the tip of her forefinger. "Thank you Caterina."

She shrugged in response, as if it hadn't taken her all night. Then, her head jerked up with a sudden thought.

"Do you hate me?" She asked, bluntly, her face free of accusation or anger. The way her hands fiddled with the hem of her prison-outfit, however, betrayed how nervous she was.

"No." Yvonne answered without hesitation, meeting Cat's eye in a sort of challenge. "And trust me, i can't say the same for all my patients."

Cat laughed; a hollow, sad chuckle that echoed around the small room.

"How can you say that?" She smiled into the desk. "How can you even look at me?"

She reached up her left arm to rub a few stray tears from her still-grinning face, and Yvonne saw again the flashes of red that lined her wrists.

Yvonne told the medical team; they didn't care. She even brought it to the Warden; only to have him send a single officer to check if she was mutilating herself; he said she currently wasn't.

Because they didn't catch her, they denied that Cat ever hated herself in that way.

'Morgan's too sadistic to feel anything,' The Warden had explained over a bowl of tomato soup in his office, 'Why would she self-harm?'

The more sessions she had with Cat, the more she justified it to herself.

"You're not insane." Yvonne assured her in confidence, and she angrily shoved her cup across the desk to hold Cat's hands in her own. "You're not a psychopath."

Cat blinked with a quivering lip, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Their hands remained interlocked, Yvonne created circles on her thumb.

Yvonne could sense that Cat didn't believe her, that she needed proof of Yvonne's belief and faith.

"You can't be a psychopath," She stated simply, and released Cat's grip, "Some people are broken by their lack of empathy, you on the other hand, you feel things more deeply and more genuinely than most people can ever hope to. That's what makes you different from them, and that's what made you what you are; because you care so damn much that it destroys you."

Cat was staring at her with her mouth hanging open, tears frozen in her eyes and an expression that could only be described as complete awe.

"Y-you believe that?"

"Absolutely."

She smiled, a watery but thankful smile, and rubbed tears from her eyes.

"You know." She said, her voice tinted with desperate humour, "I wasn't always this frail."

"I know." Yvonne tapped the file knowingly, despite its horrid contents a small smile passed her lips.

"I was kind of a badass."

"I know that too."

Cat nodded, content, and gazed out the blinded window. The sun hit her face flatteringly, and Yvonne noted for the hundredth time how beautiful Caterina Morgan really was. Not the flawless, model symmetry that the media defined as beautiful to sell overpriced products; but beauty in the scars on her chin, the small upturned lips, the dark and soulful eyes.

She was beautiful because she chose to be. Morgan knew how to get extra food at dinners, how to convince one of the officers to give her another blanket.

Confidence was her makeup, and she wore it magnificently.

"So," Yvonne looked away, she knew that Cat's beauty was often taken advantage of, and she felt guilty just admiring her. "What happened with Two-face?"

"Who?" Cat blinked at her in confusion, before recognition dawned. "Oh, you mean Dent?" She seemed uncomfortable again, shifting in her seat as if it burned her.

"Well-" Cat continued her story...

* * *

The room was cramped, and cream in colour. Mint-green curtains were folded against themselves, letting bands of sunlight peek through the blinds. Cat gazed at the man in the bed, and couldn't for the life of her pair him with a name. It wasn't Dent, the cool and calm District Attorney, the chivalrous hero to pull Gotham from the grips of chaos.

In fact, it was barely a man.

His flesh was charred and ripped, ribboning down his face to reveal rotten-meat coloured tendons and a sheer eyeball. Cat felt her blood turn to coolant in her veins; it was unnatural, he shouldn't be alive.

Dried blood flecked the green pillow, elicited from his horrendous injury. He was heavily sedated, and still, his left eye was lidless and staring right at her.

"He's not gonna talk to you." Cat understated, transfixed by the naked eyeball, but Joker was approaching his bed nevertheless with curiosity shining through his eyes.

She took an involuntary step back, her hands flying to her belt for comfort. Joker fiddled with the motor, and raised the head of the bed with an electronic whir.

The motion caused Dent to stir in his sleep and blink the sedation from his eyes, his penetrating gaze swivelled wildly around the room.

He first noticed Cat, who gave a nervous smile, and he lifted his head to goggle at her in bewilderment.

His eyes then fell on Joker looming over him, and his breath hitched in his throat. The leather straps binding him to the bed groaned in protest as he strained against them. If the look in his eyes was anything to go by, he was planning to strangle the Joker with his bare hands.

"Hi."

Was all Joker said, brandishing a sheepish grin. He sat on an adjacent stool and nodded at Cat to sit beside him, she did, reluctantly.

Dent hadn't stopped his erratic struggle against the straps, and was now trying to use his hands as a sort of crowbar, forcing his wrists against the bonds with no effect.

"I, uh, got you something." Cat said awkwardly, placing a small bear on his night stand. The bear was snowy white, with a blue nose and paws and was holding a red heart with the words 'get well soon' in golden cursive. It had a little red bow around its neck, Cat couldn't leave it alone in the empty hospital room.

Dent barely acknowledged her phenomenal gift, and left it grossly depreciated as he glared at Joker.

"You know," Joker remarked casually, pulling his horrid wig off from behind and releasing the mess of green hair around his face. "I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us, Harvey."

Cat did the same, dropping her itchy wig to the floor and running her hands through her tangled blonde hair. Joker paused his spiel, side-ways glancing at her as she tamed her mane of white and black locks. She straightened, scratching her scalp, and raised her eyebrows at him questioningly. He seemed to shake something off, and tore his gaze from her.

"When you and-"

"-Rachel!" Dent bellowed, breathing hard and glaring daggers at him. Joker raised his hands in surrender, trying to calm the livid man.

"Rachel," He continued, quickly. "Were being abducted." His hands motioned to his right, indicating the place of abduction. "I was sitting in Gordon's cage." He motioned to the left. "I didn't rig those charges."

Cat watched Dent carefully for his reaction, his expression didn't soften, he still looked like he would murder the both of them without a thought.

"Your men," Dent scowled. "Your plan." His head was quivering as he spoke, as if restraining a manic breakdown.

"Do we really look like people with a plan?" Cat laughed nervously, it seemed that out of the two of them, she was the only one who perceive Dent as a threat.

Joker pointed at her nodding, as if approving and emphasising her point.

"You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it." Joker grasped the air before him frantically, illustrating his point. He licked his lips in excitement.

"You know? I just do things. The Mob have plans. The cops have plans. Gordon's got plans. You know, they're schemers."

A strange quietness had passed over Dent, he was no longer straining but listening in disgusted interest.

"Schemers trying to control their little worlds." Cat interjected quietly, blinking up at Dent with a sympathetic look.

"Yes, thank you sweetheart." Joker grinned at her proudly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "I'm not a schemer. I try to show the schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are. So, when I say- -Ah come here."

He leaned forward to grab Dent's hand, patting it rhythmically in a gesture of friendship.

"When I say that you and your girlfriend was nothing personal. You'll know I'm telling the truth." He pulled away, nodding contently, and turned to Cat again. "Sweetheart," he batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. "Be a dear and help Harvey with his restraints."

She got up reluctantly, moving over the Harvey's left side to adjust the metal clasps holding the straps to his wrists.

"It's the schemers that put you where you are." Joker continued, smiling at Cat gratefully as she managed to free Dent's left arm and moved on to his right.

"You were a schemer, you had plans; and look where it got you."

The second his arms were entirely free, Dent lunged from the mattress to claw at Cat's neck violently. He seized her throat between his fingers, squeezing tightly until Cat began to retch for air. She yanked on his fingers to loosen them, but already her vision was stained red and unfocused. Cat grabbed his forearms, her thumbs curling around his elbow, and prised it down with all the strength she had left.

Joker stepped forward to capture his flailing arms, and clasped them together forcefully.

"I just did what I do best." There was a sharp edge to Joker's tone, and his lip curled in restrained anger as he shoved Cat behind him with his elbow.

"I took your little plan and I turned it on itself." Dent's hands were violently shifted to the rhythm of Joker's words, there was an evident line crossed and a viscous gleam in Joker's eyes.

"Look what I did to this city with a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets." He raised his eyebrows knowingly, as Cat collapsed into the stool wheezing herself to recovery.

"Hm? You know what I noticed?" Joker asked in a gentler tone, "No one panics when things go 'according to plan'." He put quotation marks around the last phrase in sarcastic exaggeration. "Even if the plan is horrifying! If tomorrow I tell the press that, like, a gangbanger will get shot-."

He licked his lips in thought, his face eventually lighting up as he leaned forward, excitedly. "-Or a truckload of soldiers will be blowing up, or that a kidnapped girl will be killed in captivity, nobody panics. Because it's all 'part of the plan'. But when I say that one little old mayor will die, and the kidnapped girl will become a serial killer. Well, then, everyone loses their minds." Joker writhed his fingers before his face, his expression animated and intense.

He formed a gun with his thumb and forefingers, indicating what he wanted to Cat.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, not completely sold on the idea of arming a vengeful madman. Still, Cat's black handgun was handed wordlessly to Joker, who flipped it playfully and offered it grip-first to Harvey Dent.

"Introduce a little anarchy." He clapped the gun into Harvey's limp hand, an assured smile breaking over his face. "Upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos."

Cat watched, horrified from her stool, as the gun's barrel was moved to Joker's temple by his own hands. His eyes were wild in anticipation, licking his lips feverishly as he waited for Dent's response.

"We're agents of chaos." Joker laughed, leaning into the gun. "And you know the thing about chaos?"

Dent looked into Joker's eyes, searching, finding a meaning he never considered, a future he never predicted.

"It's fair." Joker finished in a hushed tone. Cat rose from her seat, uncertainly walking towards the pair with her hands outstretched and pausing at Joker's side, assessing Dent's gaze.

He looked down at his palm, where a silver coin gleamed from between his blood-soaked fingers. The coin was held up between them as Dent displayed it to the Joker, a shiny side of 'heads' facing him. "You live." Dent remarked, his voice deathly low. He flipped the coin over to reveal a deeply scarred side, the only blemish on what was a two-sided coin. "You die." He finished with a snarl that showcased his exposed molars.

Joker grinned, his gaze flitting between the coin and Dent with an odd admiration.

"Now we're talking."

Cat shook her head in terror, waiting with baited breath for Harvey Dent to flip the coin and determine the fate of this suicidal madman.

Except he never did.

Harvey's eyes clouded over, as if heavily deliberating something.

After three seconds of silence, the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Eventually, the gun slowly moved from Joker's temple and Cat let out a sigh of relief, only to instead lower and point between her wide green eyes.

"Same rules apply." Dent swallowed, his face contorted into a snarl. Cat opened her mouth to object, but Joker got there first.

"Ah, ah, ah." He tutted with a nervous smile, "We need to play fair, Harvey."

"This is fair." His response was clear and resolute, and he lowered the gun until it rested on Cat's forehead between her eyebrows.

She took a deep, shaking breath, and squeezed Joker's arm reassuringly.

"It's fine," Cat muttered, her heart pounding in her ears. "It's fine."

Joker's lips were twitching wildly, his eyes wide as he searched her expression. 'It's fine' she mouthed, blinking back tears of apprehension. Cat met Dent's steely gaze, calming her nerves with slow and obvious breaths.

"I looked for you." Dent's remark was barely above a whisper. "Days and nights. I wasn't home with Rachel, because I was at the office for you. I saw you, at the funeral, Gordon and Wayne were obsessed with retrieving you. How the hell could you do this?"

Cat found herself glancing at Joker, blinking rapidly as a thousand thoughts and memories exploded through her mind. 'He broke me' she mouthed, a few stray tears cascading down her chin. 'I'm sor- '

She pursed her lips and swallowed, trying to convince herself that these words would be a lie. Instead she forced a hollow smile, and nodded at the coin still held between his thumb and forefinger.

"Flip."

At her command, the coin was tossed into the air and hovered for a moment at eye level. It seemed to fall in slow motion, catching the sun's light in its descent into Dent's open palm. He caught it, squeezing it tightly in his knuckles. Every breath was held, in that room, you could hear a pin drop.

Keeping it hidden from view, Harvey Dent unfurled his fingers slightly to glimpse Caterina's fate. His mouth twitched downwards, and he dropped the coin into his lap. Cat was trembling, her stomach fell and she imagined it rolling past her boots and out the door.

"Fine." He muttered darkly.

The trigger was squeezed, the bullet released, and Cat winced violently as the silver capsule sailed past her ear.

"Get out." Dent commanded, and Cat turned her quivering head to stare at the bullet hole in the wall behind her. She couldn't move, her legs were suddenly useless poles of jelly, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf.

Without another word, Joker grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the room, providing her stumbling walk with support.

"I-I'm okay, stop I'm alright."

Cat tried to break out of his grip, but as soon as she was left on her own accord, her legs failed her and she crumbled to the ground like wet sand. He stooped down, sliding an arm under her knees and another under her neck, lifting her easily off the ground. Again, he displayed surprising and unexpected strength.

"That was fun." Cat tried to brush it off, a half-hearted attempt at a quip. Joker didn't even smile, his face a mask of indignancy, and he scowled in response.

"You do that again, Caterina." He growled, turning a corner down the deserted halls, "And I will kill you."

She shivered, a chill running down her spine, it occurred to her that this was the first time Joker had ever called her by her first name; she didn't like it.

They heard a sudden smash and the tinkle of falling glass shards, as if a window was struck with a heavy object. Cat wasn't certain if she was relieved that Dent escaped, he was obviously a part of Joker's end-goal, and yet she couldn't help hating the two-faced bastard and wishing that maybe, he would be tragically locked in his hospital room when It blew up.

"Top pocket." Joker muttered, looking down at Cat for only a moment. She slipped her hand into his dress pocket, pulling out a grey electrical charge with a metallic antenna.

"Now?"

"Wait."

Cat adjusted herself in his arms, allowing for easy access to the charge between her white and trembling fingers.

"Wait." He said again, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to be followed. "Okay go."

She pressed the button with all her might, shutting her eyes tight in anticipation. Behind them, staggered explosions burst through the intersecting corridors like demolition blasts, spraying wooden splinters and glass shards in all directions. Cat turned her face into Joker's chest to avoid the flying projectiles and cut off the deafening booms, his hold around her back tightened protectively.

They exited the automatic glass doors and into the blinding sunlight, trudging down the cement stairway as each window blew out in series and sparks fell to the pavement like white-hot leaves. Powdered debris and smoke began to billow from the hospital's exterior and Cat coughed some explosion from her lungs.

Joker seemed to be counting under his breath as each demolition charge activated, and stopped suddenly about 20 feet from the hospital's main entrance sign.

"Uh, go…forwards." Cat stammered in disbelief, swivelling her head wildly as she looked back at the rigged building. It had gone silent, particles of dust and haze hung in the stagnant air and yet majority of the hospital's exterior was still intact.

"Press it again, sweetheart."

She smiled to herself, at the use of her nickname, and brought her thumb onto the button again.

Nothing.

"Uh," Joker licked his lips thoughtfully, contemplating how to handle the malfunction. "Maybe a little…harder?"

Cat shrugged slightly, and jammed the button excessively with her forefinger. There was a beat, and then the rest of the hospital combusted violently with plumes of orange flames and thick smoke. The walls folded in on themselves like paper-mache, and the structure began to shake threateningly.

"Go!" Cat shrieked, hitting Joker's chest with balled fists. He broke into a stagger-like run, Cat bounced in his arms uncomfortably and yet without complaint.

They took one look at the building as it collapsed behind them into a heap of rubble and a mushroom of smoke, before Joker jumped through the back of a parked school bus and nodded at his thug behind the wheel. 20-or-so civilians were shrieking in their seats, heads bowed as the bus shook with every blast.

Joker slowly lowered Cat into a navy-blue bus seat and adjusted her legs into a comfortable position.

"I'm okay." She complained, truthfully this time, and swatted his hand away as he pulled a seat belt across her shoulder. "Leave it, I can do it."

Joker didn't move until she had the seat belt buckled into place, even then he gazed up at her in concern.

"Where to?" She asked, clearing her throat in discomfort under his penetrating gaze.

"Prewitt Building," Joker answered, running a hand through his hair. "We'll set up for the next stage, and you need sleep."

It was as if worrying about her being shot removed a restraint on caution that he had been holding. Cat was growing tired of his distressed expression, and leaned backwards into her seat as the moving bus lulled her. Her seat sagged slightly as Joker sat beside her, and for a few peaceful moments they simply breathed together, relieved and exhausted. Cat felt fingertips brush against the gash on her forehead that she'd all but forgotten about.

"I'll get, uh, stitches."

"Later." She protested, moving Joker's hand around her shoulders and curling herself against him. "Just, sit." Cat ordered, and she lifted her chin to kiss his nose gently.


	22. The Man With Silver Eyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight/ Suicide Squad characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **The next few chapters will feature a special guest, keep an eye out for updates ;)**

 **Hi everyone still reading, I love you! This has been a 40,000 word journey, and while I still have a few chapters to go, I just want to say thank you for getting this far with me, I've loved every moment. So much time and effort goes into these stories, and it's your attention that makes it all worthwhile**

 **Stay amazing, and not too serious! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

 **(P.S If you haven't seen Suicide Squad and aren't sure who Napier is/will become, feel free to google 'Jack Napier' and feel conflicted emotions for what this means. :) )**

* * *

Yvonne closed the consultation room door, the portrait still in her grasp and a hint of a smile playing at her lips. It was progress, on all accounts, Cat Morgan was definitely blossoming before her very eyes into a healthier and happier person. And still, something about everything left a sour taste in her mouth; a month ago Yvonne never would have been happy to receive a gift from a serial killer, and here she was, slightly giddy, because Caterina had drawn her face on a crappy office notepad. Yvonne might be pulling Morgan towards the surface, but at the same time she was beginning to drown herself.

She shook the thought from her head. It was desensitising, that's all, all this talk of murder meant that Yvonne wasn't as disgusted by it, it didn't mean she didn't care anymore, right?

Yvonne's route back to her office was unexpectedly interrupted, when two burly security guards stepped out before her.

"Excuse me." She tried to side-step them, only to have them move around her to form a human-cage.

"Miss Huntley." The taller man before her drawled, his posh British accent contradicting his butch appearance. "Warden wants a word." And the two of them half-shoved, half-guided Huntley back up the building.

Warden Jaidev's office was at the end of a long, grey corridor. Medals and certificates of service lined the walls, and framed photographs were hung up every 3 feet. Jaidev's stern expression stared at her from each frame, his balding head, thick moustache, and stout stature made him appear quite accurately as a bad-tempered walrus.

The two policemen paused outside the deep mahogany door, turning to stand guard beside its blurred square window.

Yvonne, confused and slightly afraid, pulled the door open and entered the Warden's office. It was the same colour as the corridor, a horrid and dull grey with dark brown furniture and the same walrus man staring at her from behind a large desk.

"Afternoon Huntley." Jaidev droned, his monotonous voice echoing around the small room. He lifted a hand, indicating for her to take one of the leather sitting chairs.

"A-afternoon." Yvonne stammered and sat quickly, her heart was racing as she imagined what could possibly force an audience with the asylum's Warden. He netted his hands together, and regarded her with an expression of mild dislike.

"I'm just gonna cut straight to the chase," Jaidev leaned his elbows on the desk. "Next month, you're gonna take some sick-leave."

She raised her eyebrows incredulously, short laughs of disbelief escaping her.

"Am I? I feel fine."

"Don't be cute with me." He scowled, his moustache trembling in an almost hypnotic way.

"You're gonna spend some quality time with your husband, and we're cancelling your sessions with Caterina Morgan."

"With all due respect," Yvonne almost spat, leaning forwards to rest her own elbows on his mahogany desk. "My wife's out of town, and I believe that more time is required for Morgan."

Jaidev seemed taken back slightly, he had never received such aggression from his officers before, it was almost refreshing.

"Ha!" He shook his head, laughing. "Why are stiffs always so sensitive."

"Its kinda my job to be."

"Ah well, there's not much use lying to you now, is there?"

"No sir." The two of them leaned back into their own chairs, the tension had been broken and some level of respect had been established.

"Here it is," Jaidev placed his palms flat on the desk. "Morgan's a killer, she's a serial killer for Christ sake, we can't ignore the facts."

"Which are?"

"Thirteen bodies, five of which were cops. I think if there is a line, she crossed it by a mile."

"Right," Yvonne said slowly, a puzzled frown on her face. "But I think you have to allow consideration for the kidnapping and mild torture."

"That evidence isn't clear anymore," Jaidev pointed a finger at her, accusingly. "In every report filed, Caterina Morgan was an accomplice to that Joker. And, might I add, there is strong suggestion that they had…certain affairs, to put it gently."

She didn't understand a word of what he was saying, the anger and judgement, she also didn't understand why she was so quick to jump to Cat's defence.

"Just, don't come into work next month, let my boys offer payment."

"Payment?" Yvonne jumped up from her chair in outrage, sending it skidding madly over the polished floorboards. "I think a double life sentence in this shit-hole is payment enough. Don't even pretend that you don't know what your 'officers' do to Morgan, far as I'm concerned, she's almost got reason for killing scum like you."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and they were slicing through the air like white-hot knives. She brought her head into her hands, breathing heavily against the palms.

"I-I mean." Yvonne shrunk back into the seat, her face a mask of regret.

"How many criminals do you reckon have walked these halls?" Jaidev asked, his voice oddly calm.

She could only shrug in response.

"Hundreds," He pulled a fountain pen out of its holder, twiddling it between his thumbs as he went on. "And how many of those were murderers? Psychopaths? A lot goes on down here that you don't know about. And yes, every now and again, we come across someone who needs to be justly dealt with, I send my boys, a criminal goes missing, the streets are safer for it."

Yvonne swallowed, a new horrific light was shining on the man before her. Warden Jaidev was running a slaughterhouse, and Morgan was the prized pheasant he'd been waiting for.

"It'll be quick," He reassured her with a sympathetic smile. "We just can't afford her breaking out onto Gotham's streets. Washington contacted, they're sending Joker over in a month to be held and trialled in Gotham. It seems even the FBI want to send that monster far away, and after the last incident in Arkham we can't afford to let two psychopaths meet. So, we gotta take this into our own hands."

"How?"

The question seemed to surprise him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he pointedly avoided her gaze.

"We, uh, can't risk the medical team tracing this back to an organised killing. It will be as it always is, an accident, a lethal beatdown for shit-talking an officer. Hell, Morgan's gotten two beatdowns today so it's not incomprehensible. Until then we'll have someone else take her daily sessions."

"Good." Yvonne sat back, suddenly relieved. "Another therapist will agree with me, anyone who talks with Morgan will agree that she is worth more than some beatdown."

Jaidev laughed coldly, an unwelcome sound that sent her heart skidding like a car on a wet road.

"Dr Crane?" He shook his balding head. "He's not one to sympathise. In fact, I predict he'll destroy her. But he did send out a request for a month of consultation, and I figured that it couldn't do more harm. What some psycho does with a serial killer doesn't concern me."

Yvonne couldn't hear anymore, she couldn't resist clocking Jaidev in the moustache every time he opened his fat mouth. Wordlessly she sniffed, stood up from her chair, and made a hasty retreat for the door.

"Oh, and Huntley?"

She turned, slowly, brushing red curls behind her ears.

"You let Morgan in on this, we're gonna have a problem."

"O-Of course, sir." Yvonne stammered, her file of notes clutched tightly to her chest. He nodded one final time, before she closed the door on his office and on the horrible fate that awaited Caterina Morgan.

She was permitted to see Cat for two more sessions, and with her mouth forced shut on the terrible truth, it was torture.

"Yvonne!" Morgan greeted her the next morning, eyes bright and scars faded. The most frustrating part of it all was the word 'almost'. Yvonne almost saved her. Caterina almost lived.

She could tell Morgan was nearing the end of her story; all the fantastical car chases and romantic moments were boiling down to the sour and stagnant truth: Caterina Morgan was arrested and brought to live in torment in Arkham Asylum.

* * *

At midnight, more rigged explosives were going to grace the streets of Gotham. This time however, Joker couldn't avoid including his own dramatic flair, and thus a little social experiment was born.

Two boats, both leaving Gotham harbour to seek refuge elsewhere. One sardine-packing Gotham's underbelly and criminals, the other full of comfortable and cowardly civilians wishing to run from Joker's tyranny. While they both were rigged with enough explosives to send them into the sky, the detonator for each was given to the opposing boat, to seal the fate of a stranger. If neither was destroyed by midnight, Joker would blow them both up and kill 50 people. How he managed to organise the rigging in the boats and the hospital was beyond Cat, it seemed that he had either a very organised and dedicated list of employees, or was relying on other factors in his little games.

Caterina yawned, deeply, and tried not to think about the sun-rise nor her lack of sleep. Maps and blueprints covered the king-sized bed, scattered over the sheets and hiding it entirely. The hotel was 3 blocks away from the Prewitt building, and after a night of studying, Cat knew every inch of the damn place.

"Why do we have to break in again?" She whined, and brought the caffeinated drink to her lips to devour the final drop.

"Sweetheart, stay with me," Joker paced the beige carpet, tinkering with a small device. "I've explained how the Prewitt is a giant image processor, sending and receiving communications over the city. With all that traffic, it's blocking the sensors on the boat's explosives. We break in, we shut down the system, we're back in business."

"Why can't we just blow up the place." She grumbled again and was clearly not justified with his response.

"So bloodthirsty." He laughed. "Told you, you shouldn't've had that fourth coffee. That building emits a signal in distress, like a suicide bomber, it would completely shut my operation down. So, lucky us, we play Tom Cruise for the evening."

"I hate Tom Cruise." But despite her clear unwillingness, Joker went ahead and planned the heist in meticulous detail. It was lucky, she thought, that the Prewitt building was hosting a grand party in the lower floors to celebrate Gotham's 210th birthday. Joker laughed when she voiced this, saying with a knowing look that he didn't believe in luck.

"I have a lot of friends." He grinned. "And when I want a distraction, I get it."

The plan seemed relatively simple; enter the party, cause a diversion, shut down the security systems, take the elevator to the top floor, and install a virus into the system, giving them 20 seconds to blow the boats before it repaired itself.

With the added complications of the armed guards and the slim timeframe, disabling the system at precisely twelve wasn't going to be a simple feat.

"Right," Cat rolled over to her side, feeling maps crunch beneath her. "What about the diversion."

"Aha!" Joker pointed at her excitedly. "A good magician knows the importance of smoke and mirrors when it comes to the perfect trick."

Cat stared at him, blankly.

"You will be my smoke and mirrors." He held his thumbs and forefingers before his eyes, framing her in his hands as a photographer would.

"I can't go in alone, and you're a bit infamous to waltz into a crowded party."

The answer, it seemed, was to travel down to the hotel's restaurant and meet a friend for breakfast. Thanks to the highly unreasonable time, the round white tables and velvet chairs were unoccupied, save for a single party beside the back wall.

The men guarding it weren't Joker's usual thugs and misguided criminals, with cheap masks and even cheaper personalities. Instead, they wore expensive gold jewellery, pressed silk and cashmere suits and stylised handguns. They nodded at Joker, an invitation to sit down, and the pair of them took a seat to face their host.

He held a glossy black cane with an impressive diamond head, though his appearance made it clear it was merely a decorative item. The man had dark hair, with short sides and a longer, slicked back top, a fairly modern hairstyle. His face was sunken in slightly, exaggerating his cheekbones, and his eyes were large and unsettlingly beautiful in their infinite greyness. A gold chain sparkled from his neck, and his fingers were laden with spiked rings.

Cat was sitting before a high-end gangster, a class she thought was complete fiction.

"Napier!" Joker greeted with a friendly smile, he extended a hand but was given a mere nod of respect in return.

"We ready?" Napier raised an eyebrow in question, and flashed silver caps on his teeth as he spoke. "Where's the girl?"

Joker turned to Cat beside him, and threw his hands out proudly. "Ta-da!"

Napier leaned forward and assessed Cat with his steely gaze, she saw hints of tattoos peaking above his green button-down. After a moment of assessing her, he leaned back with a dubious expression.

"Mister Joker." Napier's voice was odd and he slurred his words, almost as if speaking from the back of his throat. "I need a diamond, you've brought me coal."

Cat's mouth fell open in disbelief, she glanced quickly at Joker to see if he would defend her. Apart from a subtle lip curl, he showed no signs of discomfort.

"Trust me, we get her in a dress, throw her under those dazzling chandeliers, she'll blind everyone." He responded without hesitation, under the table he squeezed her thigh in reassurance, and as a warning to keep her cool.

Napier shrugged a toned shoulder, rolling the diamond of his cane around his palm.

"Whatever. My men get paid, we don't have a problem."

Cat raised an eyebrow at Joker incredulously.

"Oh," He shook his head as if remembering an important detail. "Cat this is Jack Napier, my man in Gotham's underbelly. He's been building a rep for the Joker name for the past few months, he's also been helping me tear Gotham apart, one mob-leader at a time. Napier this is Caterina Morgan, I'm sure she doesn't need much of an introduction. You two will be playing the party guests tonight.

"Him?" She laughed in disbelief, jabbing a thumb at the gangster. "He's just a kid."

"He's the same age as you."

"I wear it better."

Napier shrugged off the insults, and grabbed Morgan's unsuspecting hand.

"My dear." He carried the 'r' in his lips with a haunting smile. "I'm so sorry if I upset you. Let's be friends."

She watched, still immensely confused, as he brought her hand to his lips and pecked a kiss upon it.

"Thanks."

But he wasn't done, eyeing Joker smugly, almost as a challenge, he turned her hand and began to trail kisses up her wrist and forearm.

"Ahem!" Joker cleared his throat, hiding a glare behind his cough, and Napier looked up at him from Caterina's arm.

"Sweetheart," Joker's voice was low and verging on a growl. "We're getting distracted."

Napier released her with a sultry smile, and pulled his arms behind his head, casually showing off his biceps. "I look forward to working with you, my dear."

Despite herself, a blush crept over her cheeks and she felt her stomach churn with pesky, flirtatious butterflies. It was these damn criminal-types, they seemed to be the drug she craved.

Soon after that intimate and slightly exhilarating moment, Joker left the group with Cat held roughly at his side. All the way back up to their room, she felt silver eyes boring into her back.


	23. Smoke And Mirrors

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

"Hurry up, we're going to be late." Joker banged on the bathroom door, he'd changed into his janitor disguise hours ago; greyish-blue overalls and black boots.

It was now 8 o'clock, and the party had already started down the street at the Prewitt building. Inky limousines and glistening guests crowded the giant building, and the entire street was lit by the chandeliers in the lobby.

"One second." Cat howled back in response, fitting golden flowers into her ears and needlessly readjusting the tight dress. She was a clear 6, and yet Joker found it necessary to buy her wine, strapless evening gown in a 4. The bodice was embroidered with silver swirling patterns, and the form-fitting style displayed her curves in the 'most distracting way possible' according to Joker. It just meant that the dress was tight and uncomfortable.

"We don't have a second." He shouted just as the door opened and Cat stood before him. Her green eyes were rimmed in dark eyelashes and eyeliner, brown eyeshadow created a smoky effect on her top lid. The rest of her makeup was fairly neutral, save for the sharp contour, and her usual burgundy lipstick was replaced by a simple nude-colour gloss. Her hair was carefully curled and pinned behind one ear, falling freely over her left naked shoulder.

"Well?" Cat slid her arms awkwardly down her sides, looking down at the long skirt. "What do you think?"

Joker answered by pulling her to him by her waist. Cat pushed him away, however, crossing her arms over her chest. "You are NOT going to ruin this lipstick, it took far too long. And besides," She smiled flirtatiously and picked up her black purse from the bed, "Tonight, I'm taken."

"Watch Napier, I don't trust him around you." The comment was barely above a whisper, spoken to the floor. Cat cocked her head sympathetically, and she walked over to straighten Joker's collar fondly.

"He reminds me, oddly, of you."

He looked up at her and traced her chin with the tip of his forefinger, his eyes were unusually dark despite the lack of face paint and his gazed seemed transfixed on her lips.

"Exactly."

"What's your play with him? Why are you hiring someone to do a job you could easily do yourself?" Cat asked, slipping her feet into black stilettos and strapping them around her ankles. "A guy in the underground? Sounds like a load of bullshit to me."

When he didn't reply she straightened in curiosity, pondering the answer to her own question.

"He's insurance, right? This is all some twisted initiation."

Joker licked his lips in thought and sat quickly on the bed, wringing his hands in his lap.

"'Joker' has always been an idea," He explained quietly, "A frame of mind. And the best thing about an idea is that it's immortal, it can't be killed. I, however, can. And in five years or so, Gotham won't remember my own face, they'll remember the scars, the smile, they'll remember what I stood for and what I believed in. I found Napier in a juvenile prison when he was 15, and I've spent the last 10 years perfecting him. Like you, he needed..encouragement; but I think he's almost ready. We are agents of chaos, and some day he will take my name and my mission."

It was a lot to take in, realising that the Joker had a predecessor. But even more alarming was the promise that he would eventually give up his name, and Cat knew that he would keep his image for as long as he lived, it was everything he was and ever hoped to be.

"So, what?" She shrugged angrily, crossing her arms. "You're just going to keel over and die, hand everything to that gangster? You going to sign me over too while you're at it?"

"Sweetheart, please, it has taken me years to build this legacy. You think I'm going to bet everything on my own life, this is bigger than me." He pulled her in for a hug, and despite her outrage she buried her face in his shoulder, tightening her arms around his waist.

And for the hundredth time, seemingly with her every waking moment, she fell for him like rain.

"You're not gonna say something 'Hallmark Card'?" Joker seemed surprised by her lack of poetic conveyance, and his wisecrack masked an irritated want for her sweet words, possibly even a need.

"Hm?" Cat turned her face from his jacket, knowing that if he could read her thoughts, it was a mountain of sugary crap about her feelings. Instead she opted for. "I don't hate you."

She felt him smile against her hair. In a world of serial killers and mobsters, when the entire world was against you; these words were worth a thousand.

* * *

Caterina made her way down to the hotel's lobby, thankful for the elevator that took pity on her stilettos. At the double-door entrance and complaining loudly to his men, Napier was pacing. He was dressed in a simple black suit and bowtie, his diamond cane tapping the floor impatiently.

"Sorry." Cat briskly walked across the carpeted room, pulling her uncomfortable and falling neckline up, as was the curse of the strapless. She paused beside him and extended an elbow. Napier goggled at her, shamelessly letting his eyes wander her body.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my diamond." He grinned and bypassed her elbow, instead hooking his arm around her waist. "Let's go, my dear."

The two walked smartly down the street, looking like a pair of magazine models in the glamorous atmosphere. A red rope and security guard monitored the crystal door entrance, and he was carefully checking each couple's invitation before granting them entry.

"My dear, I think I should kiss you." Jack murmured against her ear as they moved up the line, she frowned at him in question. "A good con has attention to detail, if you truly were my date tonight and looked the way you do, I would undoubtedly kiss you."

They were mere feet from the Prewitt's entrance, and yet Cat let Napier snake a hand gently around her neck and press their lips together softly. The kiss was perhaps a second longer than either of them intended, and the guard cleared his throat politely to check their invitations.

Cat fumbled in her purse for the fake cards, cursing her foolishness, and still her heart raced as they passed the entrance with ease to enter the dazzling party.

Three large chandeliers dripped from the ceiling and cast their shimmery light around the giant lobby. The floor was white and black marble, and tables draped in scarlet tablecloths held gourmet plates of food. A large illuminated bar with mirrored edges was serving drinks freely to awaiting guests, and a small orchestra played an enchanting waltz from the roped-off centre of the hall. Cat gazed around the party, frozen in the glamour like a deer in the headlights.

"Come on." Napier, his hand still holding her waist, guided her across the hall easily. She found comfort in his hold and affectionately moved against his shoulder.

"In position." a voice crackled to life from her invisible earpiece. "There's three men guarding the staff entrance." Over the line, Cat heard the familiar tang of a silenced pistol, and the loud crash of a chain-link fence being kicked open. "No men guarding the staff entrance." Joker chuckled into her ear.

Cat scanned the hall carefully, her gaze finally resting on the 'do not use' sign attached to a silver elevator beside the exit door.

She gently elbowed Jack, and nodded towards the restricted elevator, a familiar deranged grin broke over his face.

"We found our way up." Cat murmured, pretending to readjust her earring while activating the com-unit instead. "Where are you?"

"Ready when you are, how many guards?"

The armed guards, while most were dressed in neat suits and formal-wear like the guests, all had a holster-shape bulge in their left pockets, and thus were fairly easy to recognise.

Cat found an excuse to brush past each guard, her golden wedding ring drawing a line against the suit of their jackets. In a small compartment of the ring, was a tube of fluorescent ink that shone blue in ultraviolet light. When every guard was marked to be easily identified, they retired to the centre of the hall.

"12 in the main lobby, all identified." Napier muttered, turning to face Cat to feign a flirtatious whisper. She smiled and kissed his cheek lovingly, just as a guard walked past and deemed them unsuspicious.

Jack brought a hand up to caress her cheek, two thin contact lenses perched on the tip of his thumb and forefinger. Cat ran her hands through her hair, masking the fact that Napier was carefully fitting the lenses over her eyes with a gratefully steady grip. She blinked them into position, and viewed her ice-blue irises in a makeup mirror from her purse.

"Wow." He brushed some hair from her eyes. "Blue suits you."

The lenses reflected ultraviolet light, and the invisible lines painted on each guard reflected bright blue to her eyes. "Okay, seems to be working." Cat drew her face close to Jack's, and found it easy to hastily identify each guard as they paced the hall, shining like fucking beacons.

"Now?" She whispered against his cheek, waiting for Joker's command.

"Now, activate the smoke and mirrors."

Cat took a deep breath and eyed Napier accusingly. "Try not to enjoy this too much."

With a breathy gasp Caterina fell forward, her limp body pressing against the waiting arms of Jack Napier. He gave a yell of alarm and kneeled against the floor, Morgan still draped against him in the most innocent way possible.

"Help me, I need some help here!"

The surrounding guests mimicked his concern and circled the fainted girl in a gaggle of bystanders, the orchestra had silenced in a dying wheeze of a flute. Jack tightened his hold protectively around her, and Cat felt his hands wander a bit too freely.

"Watch it." She hissed with minimal lip movement, only to have him drop her to the ground roughly.

"Unconscious, can't talk." He warned, brushing her hair from her shoulders to present her to the guards like an appealing piece of meat to a shark.

The guards rushed over, all twelve surrounding the two of them in urgent concern. Cat cracked open her eye, slightly, and after identifying that all twelve guards were present she made a quiet humming noise at the back of her throat for only Jack to hear.

"What happened?"

"Is she alright?"

"Did she take anything?"

Napier was shaking violently, playing the terrified lover in an Oscar-worthy performance.

"I-I don't know." He stammered wildly, checking the pulse in her neck with two fingers. "She was saying something about feeling unsafe, about that man moving on her, and then she drank this champagne and I knew immediately my darling wasn't well."

Jack pointed angrily at a bald man in the crowd, appearing to be in his mid-forties with a curled moustache and mean look. The guards turned to him with guns drawn, and descended around him shouting accusations and questions. The poor man was paralysed in fear, unable to defend his innocence and was soon hauled from the party by the livid guards.

"I've never seen that woman before in my life." Baldy cried to no avail, and his shiny head was already disappearing from the glass entrance. The guards not escorting him for questioning were calling ambulances; ultimately every guard had left the hall undefended.

Cat opened her eye into a slit and surveyed the crowd still around them, no flashes of blue met her gaze and so she hummed again, beginning her act of waking from a deep sleep.

The crowd gasped as the unconscious girl opened her eyes slowly, staring up at her loyal lover.

"Oh, thank God." He pulled her tightly against him, tears shining in his eyes as the crowd began to clap happily. "I thought…I don't know…C'mon we need to get out of here."

Cat's eyes fluttered wearily and she grabbed his hand. "Please, I don't want to see him, can we go around the back."

"Of course." Jack helped her to her feet and took her weight against his shoulder. "We'll use the elevator." He waved gratefully to the crowd with his free-hand, as if thankful for their actions, and they stumbled across the hall to the restricted elevator.

As soon as the mechanical doors shut them off from the rest of the party, Cat peeled herself from Napier's torso and readjusted her dress.

"What the hell was that, Handsy?" She frowned at him from the far side of the elevator, leaning herself against the cool metal. He made no excuses or justifications, and merely shrugged with a sly grin.

"You two in the elevator?"

"Yup." Cat answered lightly, popping the 'p' and drumming a beat on the handlebar. "Did you get the USB to the control room?"

"Thanks for the distraction, sweetheart. It should be on the belt of a thug." Joker answered. He was fairly proud of how he smuggled the 20 civilians from the bus into the Prewitt building, dressed them up as his clown-masked thugs with guns taped to their hands, and tied up his own men as their 'hostages'. That way if the SWAT team found them before they were able to destroy the boats, they would kill all the real hostages before realising their mistake.

The elevator gave a friendly 'ding', indicating that they'd entered the business levels, and opened into the dark halls of the Prewitt.

"Okie dokie." Cat grimaced slightly, and pulled the skirt of her dress away. It tore from the Velcro, revealing that the strapless bodice was really attached to a pair of black leggings. She dropped the fabric in the elevator and walked out into the hall, Napier followed closely behind.

A few silhouetted figures stood in perfect position, guns held, masks obscuring their features, SWAT wouldn't be able to hear the strangled cries of the prisoners beneath the masks and layers of duct tape.

"Thank you." She sang sarcastically and pulled the USB from a clip on a hostage's belt, twirling the silver stick in her fingers. "Let's go Napier, computer's this way."

Before he could make his usual sleazy reply, the wall to their left exploded.

"On the ground! Drop your weapons." Shrieks and commands blasted louder than the machine gun, and white chunks of plaster dusted the corridor like icing sugar. Caterina threw herself to the ground and shielded her head against her forearm. Beside her, Napier was cradling his knees to his chest and glancing through the wide hole to identify their attacker. A second round of gunfire stamped a line of round holes millimeters above their heads, the sharp explosions ringing through her ears.

"So intense." Jack laughed hollowly, the right side of his face harboured a series of cuts and gashes from flecked debris. Cat wasn't faring much better, and despite being pressed against him, his voice was mostly muffled.

Caterina pulled the black handgun from its concealment against her chest, ignoring the smirk from Napier, and reloaded it quickly.

"That's what 'make-up' gave you to defend yourself?" He laughed again, this time at the size of her gun, and brandished an AK-47 that she didn't remember him acquiring.

"It's not the size of the gun that matters." Cat muttered, holding the gun in two arms and swinging around to face it through the gaping hole. She watched the flakes of debris helicopter to the floor, and float ever so slightly around a concealed and crouching figure. The handgun fired two shots, one hitting the man behind the machine gun and the other striking the man behind him. She sat back, pleased, as the two security guards suffered perfect headshots and died.

"It's how you use it." Cat smirked, but the pride in her eyes lasted only for a moment and more gunfire echoed around them as reinforcements arrived. Jack hefted the AK to his eye and thundered through 30 rounds of deafening bullets, sending plaster and bullet-shells flying like insects. Cat could barely hear herself think above the roar, and thus her aim was completely off.

"Sounds exciting!" Joker commented casually through the com, as a bullet narrowly missed and tore a chunk from Cat's hair. "Could you finish your little party soon?"

She swore loudly, ripping ammunition from her shirt and cramming it into the Glock's chamber. "Joker, my darling, you know I love you. But if you keep talking I'm going to kick you so hard, you'll be shitting your teeth for a week." She finished with a snarl, finally landing a bullet against a security guard's leg.

To her utter mortification, Napier's Ak-47 was unmistakably more effective in a firefight. In the time it took her to lock and load her Glock, the AK had taken out three targets already with the rapid and insane rounds of bullet spray. The final bullet fired and the final body fell, Cat and Jack got to their feet with bloody faces and heaving chests.

"Think that's all of them?" Cat laughed sarcastically, kicking one of 15 dead security guards.

"All that righteousness got them hurt." Napier tutted, alarmingly, with a very Joker-like grin and wicked gleam. He prodded the barrel of his AK against the shoulder of a guard, as it taunting him to get up.

"Whatever." She refused to acknowledge this resemblance, and with the back of her hand she smeared some blood that was oozing from her lip. "Watch the debris, we shouldn't be far from the control room now."

They turned down the decimated hall, passing a ring of Joker's thugs tied up loosely and dressed in hospital staff uniforms, who nodded respectfully as Cat walked past. Eventually the hall opened up to a large computer room where 15 desks sat in rows, all sporting their own monitor and computer for running the system, it was the government's spying room, and was slightly intimidating to be in.

A small box wrapped in silver paper caught her eye, it was sitting innocently on the desk of the closest computer to the door.

"For you." She threw the present over her shoulder to Jack, who opened it eagerly and squinted at the credit card that he was given. The bank account access codes were written on the present's label, along with the sum of 2 million dollars.

"So, you got what you came for, it was good working with you." Cat tried to wave him off nonchalantly, and booted up the computer without turning to him. She was confused and slightly afraid of the gangster, of the way he seemed to get into her head and manipulate her.

"Yeah, see you real soon, my dear."

And Jack Napier cradled her neck suddenly, embracing her from behind and pulling her lips against his. "Real soon." He played with the 'r' in his throat, and with her long hair, their lips still pressed together in a soft kiss.

"Careful," She pulled away, leaning her forehead against his and enjoying the recklessness of the moment. "Stealing other people's toys won't make you any friends."

Napier seemed satisfied with the simple kiss he stole, and grinned at her one last time, flashing his silver capped teeth, before turning and heading back up the corridor.

Cat watched him go, a cocktail of emotions flooding through her. She shook her head slightly, remembering her mission, and plugged the USB drive into the computer, accepting the prompts to download the file. The lights overhead flickered as the system struggled to fight the new virus that was infecting its capability. She knew the job had succeeded when the com-unit in her ear spoke to her.

"Seems everything's operational." Joker declared proudly. "We are good to go, bombs away! Come upstairs, sweetheart, you don't wanna miss the fireworks."

* * *

The Prewitt building was a satellite for information, collecting and sending image processing all over Gotham city. The top floors, however, were reserved as penthouse suites for late night workers or VIP's. Though rarely used, the rooms were lavishly furnished and obsessively well kept.

In the penthouse, the entire North wall was well-cleaned glass, opening the room to the glistening towers and skyscrapers of Gotham. A modern black, square-framed bed looked out to the huge windows, with black and beige floral sheets and an ornate black headboard.

Cat walked up the stairs to stand beside the large window and look out over the shimmering docks, two large boats were hovering in the bay, casting shadows of light behind them.

"Beautiful." Joker sighed beside her. "When ordinary citizens are given the chance to hurt each other without consequence, it really brings out the charm in society."

From far below the party seemed to be subdued, and a few expensive cars were driving back into the streets of Gotham after a night of champagne and being interrogated by the police.

Cat searched for his hand, and clutched it in a sudden burst of unease.

"What do we do about Batman when he finds us?"

Joker shrugged, and was more focused on unzipping his janitor disguise to reveal his usual purple suit underneath. "Even he's not fast enough to stop a radio signal, those boats are scrap-metal any minute now."

"I got a funny feeling about this," Cat murmured her thoughts out loud. "Like tonight...won't end well."

He laughed curtly, running a hand through his hair. "No. Not for those boats. And for us? I hope you consider me a good end to the night."

"God, I love you." She sighed. "Just, promise me you'll be careful tonight. Losing you would break what's left of me."

"I'm always careful." Joker scratched the back of his neck with the barrel of his gun. She elbowed him playfully, but couldn't shake the tugging in her mind. The com-unit hanging from his neck suddenly crackled with an unfamiliar voice.

"We got him Mister Joker, on our way to the Plant now."

"Good work." He praised the voice with a smile. "If he dies, leave him. If he doesn't, get him some new clothes."

Cat watched him cautiously, playing with his fingers as an absent minded gesture. "Who's that about? What's the Plant? Is it a Chemical Plant or something"

"Just a little insurance," Joker brought his fingers to his lips and whistled sharply, the Chechen's three rottweilers bounded towards them from the stairwell. "The birth of a new generation."

A sound of distant thunder rang through the room, and with it, an artificial echoing rumble. It was a sound that threw her back to racing through the streets of Gotham, a machine gun at her hip, and the rollercoaster of an upturning truck.

"SWAT's here." Cat acknowledged the approaching helicopters, grabbing her chain belt from Joker's offering hands. She loaded a round into the chamber of her Glock, and smiled weakly up at him.

"Time's up."


	24. The Unravelling Agenda

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Thank you everyone who is still with me on this story, I know it's been a bit of a wait. It's been a mixture of homework and the flu from hell, but I'm super excited to bring you guys the last few chapters, hopefully, fairly close together.**

 **Keep reading, and please leave reviews of any kind!**

 **Stay Amazing! XOXOXO- Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cat sprinted down the dark hallway, finally stopping in-between two of Joker's thugs. They nodded at her, large assault rifles at the ready, and she saw fear pass their eyes as the SWAT team clambered up the stairwell a few feet below them.

"Ready for hell boys?"

They nodded after a moment, before one of the men grabbed her arm rather unexpectedly.

"Miss Morgan."

The formality shocked her, and Cat tried to discern the identity of the round-faced man with tattoos creeping up his neck. He had a head of curly black hair and stood at least 6 feet, giving him a kind, if gruff, appearance. After a while she was barely able to name him as one of the men who administered her hourly beating when she was being tortured.

"Douglass?"

He nodded, fear shaking his voice.

"I just wanna say…sorry for all that crap…and for any other crap these men have ever done. You're alright, I mean you scare the shit out of me, but in an inspiring way, y'know? And if Joker, well you know he's the dangerous type, if he loses it or if he gets himself killed…I just wanna tell ya, I'd be happy to call you 'Boss'."

She smiled, genuinely flattered. Fear was an easy motivator, but respect was always the more vicious compeller. A respected person becomes a legend, a feared person becomes a threat.

"I'll hold you to that Douglass, and one day maybe you'll fight for me. Today, however, fight _with_ me."

His grip on the gun tightened, his face a mask of inspired determination. His partner too seemed to stand a little taller at her words.

"Sure thing, Miss Morgan."

She nodded at them one final time, her jaw clenched and her eyes resolute, before marching down the corridor with her trade-mark whip swinging at her hips. The clinking sound of the chain echoed down the hall, and she watched in mesmerised interest as each of Joker's men straightened their stance and seemed to gain confidence or determination from the whip's echo. Cat felt pride twinge within her stomach, and finally she understood Joker's previous words.

 _I'm an idea._

She was a legend now, a symbol, the image of her whip was now recognised, a name she had built that would remain long after she did. She was Cat Morgan, serial killer, notorious criminal, she was more than just the sister of a boy who killed himself.

The last image that flashed in her mind, as she ran at an approaching cluster of SWAT members, was the gravestone from her toxin-induced visions.

 _'Beloved Sister'._

She would be more than that, she would be so much more than that.

* * *

Cat Morgan ripped through the policeman like a hot knife through butter, throwing their broken bodies to the ground and perfectly firing bullets through their right eyes. She rolled and ducked beneath flying bullets, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that the SWAT members were utter shit at hand-to-hand combat.

"Look out!"

Cat turned towards the warning, dropping a SWAT onto his back. Before she had time to react, a small figure was bounding towards her at lightening speeds, knocking her beside the fallen SWAT member. Cat stared at the ceiling in a daze, and after three seconds the hall shook with a violent demolition blast that sent shards of glass and plaster zipping around the room.

"Woo!" A husky voice cheered above her, and a hand was offered near Cat's arm. She took the invitation gratefully and hauled herself to her feet, looking around at the consequences of the blast. Six men had been caught in the bombs radius and were now scattered rather gruesomely around the corridor.

'Bomb appetite, bitches."

Cat finally turned on her heel to face her saviour, and found a surprising sight. The girl was in her early twenties, perhaps a year or two younger than Cat, she was short, curvy, and had a beautiful wholesomeness to her appearance. Her lipstick was matte and bright red, contrasting shockingly against her dark skin, and her chocolate-coloured hair was shoulder length and consisted of volumized curls.

"Thanks." Cat found her manners, smiling brightly at the girl, she smirked in response and stuck a match behind her ear.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, look we can snog later." And she knelt down with a second match, struck it on her brown hiking boots, and lit a fuse that snaked down the corridor.

"Matches? A bit behind times, aren't you?" Cat laughed in disbelief, watching the girl extinguish the match with her fingertips and stick it behind her ear again.

"What can I say?" She shrugged with another smirk, as the room opposite exploded in a flurry of orange flames, "I like big booms." She extended a hand laden with silver rings, and shook Cat's own hand sturdily. "The name's Cherry."

Cat opened her mouth to introduce herself, but was interrupted yet again by a shout behind her shoulder.

"Miss Morgan!"

Douglass came sprinting down the corridor, his rifle bouncing humourously in his muscular arms. His tall figure paused between the two girls, glancing at Cat with a sort of protective-worry.

"What's all this 'Miss' shit?" Cherry grinned, popping a lump of pink bubblegum between her teeth.

"And what are you supposed to be? 'Asian James Bond'?" She continued to smirk as Douglass stared daggers down at her, despite the substantial height difference, Cherry was in no way intimidated.

"Want me to shoot her, Miss Morgan?" He hissed, distrust filling his expression. His right eye was red and bruising around the edges, a deep cut ran from his ear to the bottom of his jaw.

Cat felt an overwhelming swell of affection for him and smiled at Douglass gratefully, before surely shaking her head.

"Thanks, but it seems like we might need her."

At her words, Cherry raised her eyebrows at him mockingly, blowing a large pink bubble and smacking it with her lips.

"'Till next time, Sugar." She snarled, before winking at Cat and turning on her heel. "Bomb voyage, bitches."

Cat laughed airily, shaking her head and watching Cherry's retreating strut. She turned back to Douglass, who was also watching the 'demolitions-expert' walk down the hall.

"I can still hit her from here, just say the word."

Cat smiled at him, and noticed a number of bracelets peaking from below his coat sleeves. There were a number of colourful bands, including some in support of different foundations and causes. She frowned, quizzically, trying to assess the reason behind a criminal having a moral value; and then again, it was hard to judge, given her own situation.

"Patrol this hall for me." Cat decided to leave the questions for later, and was fairly conscious that no matter what, Douglass had to survive this firefight. She would do anything to keep him alive.

'Sweetheart.'

A voice crackled from her walkie-talkie, Cat jumped at the noise and had forgotten, in all the chaos, that she was awaiting orders.

"I'm here."

'Our favourite flying rodent is on his way.'

Joker's voice sounded odd and faraway. echoing as if he was shouting into a chasm. From the other end, she could also discern the sirens and general noises of traffic, as well as gusts of violent wind.

"Everything okay?"

'Oh absolutely,' His enthusiasm sounded slightly forced. 'Just hanging around. Take care of the Batman and I'll come and pick you up personally, I promise.'

"S-sure." Cat stammered, mildly alarmed by the lack of surety in Joker's reassurance. "I'll contact you in a bit." She flicked over her wrist to check the time, and noted that her watch revealed that it was well past midnight.

"What happened with the boats?"

He laughed curtly, and yet sounded oddly disheartened. 'I guess we both underestimated Batman, don't worry, we'll both be fine.'

She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat, and Cat felt a trickle of dread run down her back like ice water. It was all unravelling, far too quickly and unpredictably. Cat lowered the device and chewed her lip in nervous thought.

'W-wait.'

She brought the walkie-talkie up again, nervousness thrashing through her stomach like a storm; Joker almost sounded...afraid.

'I just…It's…'

Cat realised that she was holding her breath and quickly let out in a deep sigh to fight off the dizziness that threatened her.

'I want to…Y-you…' She heard him audibly sigh before continuing his train of thought.

'...Give him hell.'

Cat thought of something to say, anything that could measure up to the emotions that raged within her. Eventually, her messy thoughts faded into an ocean of white noise and she re-clipped her walkie-talkie to her belt, turning to the stairwell to her left.

"I'm…I'm going to the roof." Cat blinked reality back into her eyes, aware that Douglass was gazing at her with a face full of concern. "Patrol this hall…keep SWAT out of my way."

He opened his mouth to reply, rethought his remark, and closed it again without a word. Instead, he reached an arm over and squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

"Good luck, I'll be-"

He was cut off abruptly by a violent explosion behind them. A bullet blasted towards her and lodged itself in the wall of cement behind them. Douglass turned to their attacker with adrenaline-fueled speed. "Run, Miss Morgan, run!" He fired a series of rounds towards the three SWAT men and forward-rolled, ducking behind the corner cover of the hall.

Cat stumbled for a moment, turning to look at the bullet in the wall directly behind her. Its brass shell was coated in red. The white wall was splattered with blood, as if painted messily by a spray can.

She sighed deeply, as pain exploded from her hip.

"Fuck me."


	25. The Darkest Night

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **"Sorry." - Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

The SWATs descended on them violently, it wasn't long before Cat was separated from Douglass and fighting two armed men with a gunshot wound.

She was punched twice across the face, and by the time they were lying in pools of their own blood, Cat was battered and bruised, staggering up the stairs as the world flipped around her. She spat blood onto the cement steps below, and struggled with the hatch to the roof. She was aching, cold, tired, and Joker's fearful words rang through her ears like a constant ringing.

 _What the hell had gotten him so afraid?_

Eventually, she stepped out onto the roof and the rain hit her face like glass shards, cutting at her eyes and seeping through her clothing. Cat held the vent with a white-knuckle grip; the cool metal had no further reaction on her numb fingers.

Below her, staggered gunfire echoed, the deafening clang of shattering glass and the all-out roar of violent conflict. Even the moon had taken safety behind the late-night haze of cloud, and the only source of light over the rooftops were the SWAT helicopter searchlights, appearing as pale cylinders in the falling rain.

Cat smeared makeup and rain from her eyes. Trying to focus her vision and remove the blinding stabs of light from the thundering helicopters.

"You want me?" She screamed up at the sky, as a whale of a helicopter passed lazily overhead.

"Come on! Come on and get me!"

It responded with a low groan of metal, and the mechanical hum passing overhead didn't cease or even remotely acknowledge her existence. Cat slumped forward, draping her aching body over the vent and pressing her face against its cool exterior. Her chest felt like it was slowly being strangled by a boa constrictor, and each breath was deeper and wheezier than the last.

Cat looked down at her hip, letting out a strangled hum of concern as the blood from the gunshot ran down her torso and leg, diluted into a pale orange from the falling rain. Salt tears stung from her eyes, reactivating the cuts on her face in a stabbing pain.

"Come get me, come get me." She sang softly, tapping out a rhythm with her blood-stained fingernails.

She heard a whoosh like a falling banner, or a billowing sheet, and the crunch of boots against gravel. Cat swung herself from the vent, hanging her head and slumping her shoulders as the pain hit her in dizzying waves.

"If it isn't the Batman?" She crooned, glaring up at him with hooded eyes. Cat wrung her belt from her waist and began creating large and hypnotic circles near her thighs. "You here for me, sweetheart?"

The figure made no response, his black cowl masking his expression.

"We don't have to fight." He finally replied in a low and hoarse command, like rocks grinding against concrete.

"Right," Cat laughed, slicking her hair back with her free hand. "And someone pushed from a ten-story rooftop doesn't have to fall."

She swung the chain low, the weighted ends skidding along the gravel before hooking securely around Batman's right leg. But before Cat could haul the rope, Batman brought his braces down and caught the tether with his forearms, using his brute strength to send the chain in a jarring arc that brought Cat crashing down into the gravel.

She got up, slowly, painfully, rubbing gravel from new holes in her elbows and knees.

"Look at you go!" She grinned, despite the blood that was now dripping from her nose and curving around her lips. "Did I pick the wrong madman?"

Cat swung the whip again, watching Batman follow the clock-work motion to knock her down. In the last moment, however, she flicked her wrists upwards and caught him around the middle, cocooning him in a loop of silver, she brought her boot down on the chain and watched him lurch forwards violently, smacking his forehead against the vent with a sickening crunch.

Cat walked up to him deliberately, rolling the chain securely around her forearm. She grabbed Batman by the 'ears' and pulled him backwards to face her. Blood trickled down his chin, his mouth was hanging open slightly and his teeth were stained scarlet. He had an odd dazed expression, and seemed to be looking past her rather than at her.

The rain was falling harder now, as if the entire ocean had been evaporated into the clouds and fallen to Gotham in a violent rush of a watery-curtain.

Cat swung her fist, smacking Batman on the jaw, and she wiped the blood from her scraped knuckles as his head lolled back again.

"No more flirting." She growled, pulling her switchblade from her pocket and striking him on the torso. His body armour was thick, and despite the razor-sharp blade, the cut was relatively small. Cat brought her hand back for another swing with the knife, only to have the Batman grab her elbow forcefully and smack his head against hers.

She felt her teeth vibrate from the impact and she was compelled to bite down on the side of her tongue, hard, filling her cheeks with hot metallic liquid. She fell backwards onto her rear into a puddle of muddy water, staring uncomprehendingly at the pair of boots before her. Cat eventually spat the blood to the gravel and stood up shakily, clutching the bullet wound between grasping, white fingers.

"You're gonna have to attack sooner or later-." Cat circled him like a ravenous tiger, stumbling slightly.

"-Or I will kill you."

Batman threw a punch at her abdomen, one which Cat deflected with her chain and instead strung up his arm tightly. She sprung forwards with his arm still at her mercy, forward-rolling over his broad shoulders and landing shakily behind him. She yanked on the chain while looping it once around his neck. He punched himself in the throat, viscously, which sprained his arm as well as choking the air from his lungs.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!" She screamed suddenly, her voice melding with the thundering rain. "I'll kill you for what you've done!"

Batman pulled a gun-like object from his belt, shooting it at her knee. The harpoon zipped through the rain like a lightning bolt and impaled just below the kneecap, bursting through the flesh and bone and poking its metal head out of the back of her knees. Cat wailed and clutched at her injured knee, having only moments to experience the agony before Batman retreated the grapple and pulled her, bouncing along the gravel, towards him.

The adrenaline managed to block most of the pain, and Cat cut the cord with her knife quickly to release herself, standing up with the grapple-head still skewering her leg. Cat kicked him squarely in the chest with her good leg, he staggered back slightly but was barely fazed by her attempt. Batman sprung forwards with his forearm arcing towards her face. It was her turn to stumble backwards, and she choked on her own blood while falling to her knees.

The hits kept coming, pushing her further and further into the unconsciousness of agony. Her wounds were taking their toll, spilling her blood freely and slowing her movements. Cat managed to dodge his next punch, and the next, each attack was closer and closer to striking its target and she found herself struggling for breath as the minutes passed.

The Batman seized her neck with an iron grip, swung his arm back and struck her with a viscous uppercut.

"That's enough." He commanded finally, stepping away from Cat as she lay on all fours. Her crumpled body was heaving in shallow, raspy breaths.

"C-coward." She wheezed, spitting a white molar over her shoulder and getting gingerly to her feet.

She stood before him, bleeding, bruised, dizzy, swaying slightly on her stance, and hot tears were streaming from her eyes not unlike the blood from her wounds. And yet, she glared absolute daggers at him and held her broken fists up to her chest to fight. It was this mad look in her eyes that stayed his hand, the sheer conviction and rabid violence.

Caterina would die fighting the Batman, happily.

"That is enough!" This time, there was a desperate edge to his yell, and she merely responded by smeared her streaming nose, coating her mouth and chin in gruesome red paint.

"This is for Ash." Cat snarled, seemingly having gained all she could from the satisfaction of hand-to-hand combat, and she pulled a handgun from her biker jacket, aiming for the bridge of Batman's nose.

"This is for my brother, you son of a bitch."

And the two of them froze, like statues held in place. Cat's elbow was quivering, skin and blood flashed through gashes in her clothing, glistening in the passing helicopter's spotlight.

Batman was staring past the gun in her hand, past the blood, straight into Cat's eyes. He looked at her, really looked at her.

It was too easy and absolute, he could leap forwards and throw her stumbling backwards. The rooftop was barely 15 feet wide, and it would be only seconds before her feet left the edge and she fell, down, down, far too quickly.

He took in all her features in a matter of seconds; black eyeliner was smeared across her eyes in jagged ovals, blood coated her mouth and stretched it into a deranged grin, her hair hung in limp tendrils around her pale face.

He couldn't ignore how similar she was to the psychopath, her actions and her face was so much like the Joker that it scared him. But her eyes were shining with tears and anger, no scars lined her lips, and a chunk of her ear was missing from evident torture.

Caterina was far too small to hold the weight of that face, far too innocent looking, far too broken. It occurred to Batman, suddenly, that it was all a skin.

Her madness was skin deep.

* * *

In one unexpected and fluid movement, he reached a gloved hand behind his head and grasped the cowl. Cat watched him cautiously, as he pulled the mask over his head without hesitation and dropped it at his feet.

"Caterina." His voice was low and pained, and he slowly knelt into the gravel with earnest fear.

"Caterina, look at me."

She was staring past his face, her eyes wide and the gun slowly lowered. Cat's green eyes slowly slid across Bruce Wayne's features, taking in every tell-tale part of his face, desperately trying to find fault.

"I-I..."

A slight tremor shook her head, and fresh tears fell from her eyes.

"I can't…Bruce… W-What...F-fuck." Cat could only choke out single-syllables and she bit the top of her lip in desperate thought, before finally deciding to bring the gun up again, this time pointed between the eyes she knew so well, the eyes she had woken up to, the eyes that had brought her so much comfort once-upon-a-time.

"It's okay, Cat, I'm here now, I wasn't before, I'm here for you now."

She opened her mouth to scream, to release some of the horrid emotions swirling through her stomach like poison, all that came out was a few moments of silence, and a barely audible plea.

"You killed him? You knew who I was and you…you…you fucked with me."

Bruce could do little but swallow a lump of raw emotion, and let a small hum of agreement escape his lips. His hair was already slicked to his scalp from the thundering rain, and yet the stabbing cold barely registered with him.

"How could you? I…I'm a fucking killer but I've never heard something so… you deserve this, you fucking deserve this."

She pulled the safety from the gun violently, loading a bullet into the first chamber and holding It up again with a scarily steady arm.

"I was afraid." Bruce murmured and didn't so much as flinch, pointedly ignoring the threatening weapon to stare deeply into Cat's eyes.

"I was so afraid, that I lied, I lied and ruined your life. Ash-…-your brother, I didn't kill him, I destroyed him. And I thought, somehow, I could partially redeem myself if I loved you. And I did, Cat, I did everything I could to love you, but your stature and eyes…I saw him, every single day, I saw him. It was my penance, I was haunted by a real ghost every fucking time I looked at you-."

Cat was crying again, her lips curled into a disgusted snarl. Bruce took a shaky breath and decided that she deserved the truth, the truth about absolutely everything.

"-But I'm not sorry for that, at least not now, I have so many debts to repay that sometimes I have to let them go. 'Richest man in Gotham', but I have more debts than I can possibly repay, your brother is now one of those lost casualties. No-"

He stood up, taking a few careful steps forwards and ignoring the flashes of fury that passed over Cat's face.

"-I'm repaying another debt now, perhaps the greatest one that I have." Wayne stopped a few feet from the outstretched gun, taking Cat's lack of action as invitation to proceed.

He undid his utility belt and the sash laden with impressive gadgets and deadly weapons was thrown behind him, landing in a puddle with a deep splash. Now unarmed, Cat's lip suddenly quivered and she seemed less sure of the gun in her hands that was still pointed at Bruce's forehead.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. "I'm so fucking sorry for killing Caterina Morgan."

The rain slowed, and stopped, making the night around them stagnant and silent.

They waited, breaths held, eyes fixed together. Bruce waited to die, Cat waited to pull the trigger.

And yet, in the passing seconds, neither happened.

Her handgun well and truly lowered, falling helplessly to sway slightly beside her buckling knees. She stared at him as if seeing the situation from a new and horribly surprising perspective. Cat slumped forwards, knowing that he would catch her in his arms and hold her close.

"B-Bruce!" She wept deeply into his shoulder, shuddering with the effort and pain.

"I think…I think I'm fucked up."

He quickly disarmed his gloves and undid the latches, allowing him to run his own fingers soothingly through her hair.

"It's going to be okay, it's all going to be okay."

Cat made a strangled wail, a blood-curdling sound that echoed through the quiet night air.

"I killed those people, Bruce, some of them begged me to spare them…and I-I didn't."

Bruce wrapped his free arm around her waist. "Is that why you're crying? Because you feel remorse?" He kept his tone even and strong, convincing himself that he was doing the right thing.

"No." She sniffed and leaned away, keeping her face barely an inch from his, her expression was completely shattered.

" _I'm crying because I don't_."

Bruce had barely registered this, or what her broken expression meant, before she stepped from his embrace with her eyebrows furrowed in grief.

He forgot. Bruce had been so busy comforting her and reassuring himself, that he had completely forgotten about the gun; and how it was still in her possession.

Blood pounded in his ears, and his tongue felt too large for his mouth, he tried to move but shock had rendered his legs into useless and lead-like.

Cat grimaced slightly, swung the gun around and pointed it directly under her chin, aiming for the stars.

The terrifying serial killer with bloodstained hands was shaking with fear, tears falling from her eyes. Caterina Morgan was showing him a side he had never seen before, she was absolutely and undoubtedly afraid. It was obliterating, to see her as this empty shell, this emotionally shattered husk that could only see one way out.

She took a deep breath, her eyes fluttered closed, and her finger pulled downwards on the trigger.

 _Bang!_

The black handgun fell to the gravel, a parade of noises echoing in its wake; A gruff shout of alarm, a tinkle of a chain, a body falling to the ground. And then, as if the night had deemed the show over, silence completely fell over that rooftop.

* * *

"Caterina!"

Bruce was kneeling beside her and he shook her shoulder violently, staring at the pooling blood beneath of her head.

"Caterina, please, get up. Jesus Christ! Caterina! I'm here, okay? It's going to be…It's going to be all okay."

He lifted her head gingerly from the gravel, his hands tangling in her blood-stained locks.

"Fuck. Caterina? I need you…I need you to wake up, can you, please…Please." His voice broke and faded into a grief-stricken wheeze.

Cat's eyes were dim, as if a light behind them had blown, she stared up and past the man cradling her, her mouth still and parted gently.

Bruce continued to plead as he held her close, dropping his head in the crook of her neck and shaking with equal parts anger and fear.

"I-I didn't do it again, I saved you, I have to have saved you. Fuck, wake up, please?"

The figure in his arms was still for a moment.

For two moments

And then Caterina took a shallow breath and twitched in agony, her eyes gloriously filling with emotion and consciousness. He stared at her in disbelief and let out a bark of relieved laughter, throwing his head back to stare up at the sky as he felt Cat breathe against him.

Luckily, Caterina was weakened by her wounds, and had struggled with the task of pulling the gun's trigger. The hesitance was all Bruce needed to dive forwards with little thought, throwing Cat viscously to the ground, where she hit her head on the edge of the large vent.

He spent a few minutes kneeling on the rooftop, Cat's torso held tightly in his arms and her blood-stained head lolling against his shoulder.

"You'll be fine." Bruce muttered, adjusting himself beneath her to allow him to pick her up bridal-style, wary of her many wounds. "You're strong, he can't hurt you, Joker can't cut you. It's all on the surface, okay?"

He stood up and made his way slowly towards the stairwell that spiralled down into the Prewitt building.

"Where they take you," His voice was soft, meant only for her ears. "It'll be hell, I know that, but you've got thick skin, you can take it." He pulled the mask over his chin that he saved from the rooftop, and noted the evident police barricade that waited at the bottom of the stairs.

"Wait for me." Bruce muttered, walking up to the SWAT team in long and purposeful strides.

He watched them bind Cat in handcuffs and straps, keeping her completely still on the stretcher. They carried her off slowly, marching her down the corridor.

Caterina Morgan, on the brink of death, with one good leg and a bullet lodged in her hip, was strapped with 12 restraints to a hospital bed and was escorted by 14-armed SWAT guards.

Bruce watched and thought that the image would've made her smile.


	26. Hollow Eyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ The Dark Knight/ Suicide Squad characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **That last chapter was fun to write, hard, but fun. As an author I love writing really emotional scenes that break my characters, but for future reference, If I apologize before a chapter it means it's going to be emotionally straining. :)**

 **Anyway, thanks for the love, this book has reached more than 5,000 views which is a heck of a lot of love. I'm really glad people are enjoying it.**

 **Stay amazing! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cat paused, breathing hard.

Outside, the wind was pulling at the many trees and cascading golden leaves to the sidewalk. Fall had taken over Gotham, covering everything with thin layers of ice and foggy mornings.

Yvonne found herself staring out the window as well, she had some issue with keeping eye contact with Cat.

 _The last session._

It was absolutely disgusting, seeing how the light curved around Cat's soft features and broken expression, seeing how absolutely breathtaking she was and how easy it would be for Warden Jaidev to arrange her brutal execution.

"That's it," Cat's voice was low and dripping with melancholy, she quickly wiped a solitary tear from her cheek. "That's the fucking tragedy of it."

Yvonne swallowed a painful lump of emotion and busied herself by scribbling on an empty notepad, she sketched a pair of eyes, a pair of wide green eyes that she had been trying to perfect for days.

Cat had finished her recount with her head hitting the curb after the rooftop fight, and the consultation room was quickly and unexpectedly muted.

"Well?" Cat turned from the window to stare at her, perhaps she was attempting an accusatory glare, but it appeared to be more depressed than anything.

"Surely you've got some sciency shit to lay on me. You know, diagnose me."

Yvonne cleared her throat nervously, and managed to shift her gaze to meet Cat's penetrating stare. It took her a moment to reply, she was wrestling with the words in her mouth.

"I-I can't"

A beat.

Cat laughed hollowly, subconsciously rubbing her forearms with the tip of her index finger. "C'mon doc, what is it? Schizophrenia? Borderline Personality? Don't worry I've heard them all, I can take it."

She shifted in her seat and prayed silently, begged anyone who might be listening to let her have more time with Cat.

 _'I can fix her, give me a chance to fix her.'_

"I can't diagnose you Caterina."

She hung her head, and her small frame began to shake violently. Yvonne reached an arm over in alarm to check her state, she lifted her chin up and found, surprisingly, that Cat was laughing.

Tears streamed from her eyes, and her face was pulled into a smile-like grimace, as deep and wheezy chuckles rung from her throat.

"Y-you can't?" She choked out between her sob-like laughs, her hands were clutching the rim of the wooden desk so sharply that her already pale skin was a few shades lighter. "You fucking can't?"

Yvonne cleared her throat in an attempt to keep the whimper from her throat, or the tears from her eyes.

"No," Her reply was barely above a whisper. "I can't accurately diagnose you. I'm…I'm sorry."

Cat's laugh faded into a despairing sigh, and she stared at Yvonne with her lips barely parted. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her chin quivering. "You have to…I need to know…It's something up here, it's fucking messed up."

She tapped her forehead sharply with her fingertips, before clutching it in sudden and violent misery. "It's gotta be…I need some bitter pills…I need someone to fucking cut into it…I need-"

And she collapsed into the table, this time tears shook her shoulders and she didn't mask the gut-wrenching sobs that escaped her.

"C-cut me up…Fix me…M-make this go away."

Yvonne felt her heart audibly break for the shattered person before her, she could've reassured her, but nothing Yvonne could say would make any real difference.

It was horrible, it was fucking horrible. And yet, it had to be faced.

"You're not sick, Caterina. M-maybe you need to face the thought that it's you…either your madness was a skin for your obsession of Joker, or your sanity was a skin over your love of Bruce. Either way, it's all…it's all cognitive. You did those things, killed those people, loved that…thing, you did it all because…because you wanted to."

She hated herself for saying these words, telling Cat that it was her own doing. Suddenly, Caterina wasn't facing voices in her head, or monsters under her bed. Suddenly, Caterina _was_ the monster.

Yvonne struggled to continue the session, and wanted nothing more than to take Cat into her arms and walk her out of this awful place.

She ran a hand nervously through her long, auburn locks, and smiled at Cat as wholesomely as she could.

"You said something about a letter that you were writing," She paused, cautiously noting Cat's reaction. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Caterina seemed entirely detached from the conversation.

"A letter to a man, someone you didn't know."

Cat nodded slightly, her breathing began to steady. "When they threw me in intensive therapy, the room had been occupied recently. There were weird drawings and scrawls on the mirror in red lipstick, and some seriously creepy smiley-faces. Anyway, I found a bunch of old letters under the bed that were covered in..."

She paused, her face scrunched up in thought.

Yvonne watched as Cat struggled with the same problem every session, sometimes her mind decided not to work with her.

"Uh," She pursed her lips and made a kissing noise, her face still a mask of concentration. "You know?"

"Lipstick stains?"

"Yeah, lipstick stains, and I thought that was weird. The letters were all from a man to a woman who had stayed there. They were absolutely beautiful and poetic, comparing this woman to the moon and other sappy shit like that. Anyway, I had no one to write to, since Joker was...not around."

Cat's face fell, and she cleared her throat uncertainly.

"I was...I am a liability to him, so It's not surprising that he wouldn't...So I had no one to write to, and I just started writing to this man. He never replied, and I didn't even know if he was getting my stupid letters. But It was nice, thinking that someone out there could be thinking of me somehow. I guess it was, for a moment, that I wasn't completely alone and unwanted."

Yvonne managed a sympathetic smile and encouraged Cat to continue with a simple hand wave.

"Well in his letters he mentioned a big promotion that he hoped to get, something about inheritance, like a 'title'. And his last letter was asking this girl a question, something about partnerships? It was all very mysterious, maybe that's why I loved it so much."

The psychiatrist smiled again, pleased by this display of emotional attachment. "And did you ever get a name?"

She shrugged in response, sitting back in the metallic chair and tugging nervously on her hair. "No, not really, I told him who I was and where I was. But all I ever got was the way he signed all his letters."

'Living for you, -J'.

"Beautiful, isn't it? Living for someone, that girl was incredibly lucky to have that."

Yvonne didn't have the heart to tell Cat that she knew who was staying in the ICU before her, that this fantastical woman and Shakespearean-romance was merely a disgraced psychiatrist.

As nice as it would have been to hear Caterina talk all day about this dreamy tale, Yvonne had a few questions burning the back of her mind. She was so enthralled by the way she could approach the next subject, that she didn't realise Cat falling back to the table and continuing her quiet sobs.

"Caterina-" Yvonne paused and watched Cat cry, considering the best way to phrase the next question.

"Why did you try to end your life?"

She looked up from the table, her eyes red-stained and puffy, and yet a small smile played over her chapped and pale lips.

"I hated Batman, I loathed him utterly," Cat responded, her voice low and husky from crying.

"And I thought, for months, that I couldn't hate anyone as much as I hated him. But that night…I discovered that I could, I could hate someone to the point where I wished beyond everything that they didn't exist. I hated myself."

Cat's smile fell like Yvonne's stomach, and she began scratching the table with her thumbs fingernail absentmindedly.

"I disgusted myself, I couldn't care less about the people that I killed, I still don't. I know that's…I know it's wrong…I know something upstairs has to be malfunctioning."

Yvonne found the courage to squeeze Cat's hand reassuringly, rubbing her thumb against her palm in soothing circles.

Cat stared down at the display of affection uncomprehendingly, she was unused to a soft touch, a restraint and caring act.

"Are they gonna kill me?" She blurted suddenly, her eyes still strained on their interlocking hands.

"These guards…every time they beat the shit out of me it feels like their trying to kill me."

Yvonne's heart stopped for a second and she was immobile, her breath hitched in her throat. It took her a moment to remember herself, and remember her duty as a therapist and as a friend.

"Of course not." She smiled cheaply, releasing Cat's grip and sitting back in her chair. "This is an Asylum, we're going to fix you."

"Fix me?" Cat laughed again, shaking her head of blonde locks. "How can they fix me…WHEN THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!"

She jumped forwards suddenly in her chair, her arms outstretched and her hands clawing for Yvonne's neck. The metal chair fell to the ground with a thunderous clutter and Yvonne darted from the table quickly, a scream of fright escaping her. The loud and alarming noises alerted the men waiting outside, who barged in obnoxiously and threw Cat to the other end of the room.

"N-no!"

Yvonne tried to push past the security guards who had Cat's crumpled form surrounded.

"She was just upset, please let her go!"

They proceeded to bash Cat into submission with their batons, causing little yelps of anguish to escape her.

"Please! She's fine, just leave us alone!" But no one was listening to Yvonne's plea, two men restrained Cat heavily and hauled her up by her elbows. She didn't fight back, she didn't attempt to escape, Cat took the beatings with silent tears and stared dejectedly at the ground as she was dragged out of the room.

Yvonne followed them out, willing Cat to look at her, _at least for the last time._

Warden Jaidev's stout form came strutting down the hallway, regarding Cat with a snarl of disgust and finally focusing his attention on Yvonne before him.

"Doctor Huntley."

She tried to sidestep him, but he reached out a pudgy arm and firmly grasped her elbow.

"Doctor Huntley!" He repeated, his voice verging on a yell.

When she finally stopped trying to go after Cat and the escorting army, Jaidev half-guided, half-shoved her to the far wall of the corridor where they could talk in private.

"Doctor, let it go, Morgan's going down to solitary."

Yvonne watched in horror as Cat was forced into a white straitjacket, while a dirty and peeling muzzle was secured around her mouth. Both of these items were grossly unnecessary, as she was barely moving a muscle in protest.

What was perhaps more disturbing were the large smiles pasted upon the security guards, they chortled loudly as they pulled Cat, stumbling, down the corridor, her arms tied forcefully around her torso.

"Solitary?" Yvonne stared at Jaidev, her brows furrowed. "Why the hell does she need to go to solitary?"

"Well," Jaidev mopped his shiny head with a navy-blue handkerchief. "She's obviously a danger to herself and others, you saw how violent she was. It's for her own good, Morgan will be safer in a padded cell."

"Pad-" Yvonne broke off in disgust, and pulled herself forcefully from the warden. "You're going to kill her in a week, how can you let her spend that time in a padded cell?"

"Easily." Jaidev's glare hardened, and he lifted his chin indignantly. "We will organise a temporary psychiatrist for her. It's funny, he actually asked to be given time with her, even offered to pay us! What a psycho, but we don't need Morgan anymore so I agreed."

Yvonne opened her mouth to argue, rage fuelling her confidence to stand up to the warden. Jaidev, sensing her coming outburst, grabbed her elbow threateningly.

"Now, now," He tutted, not unlike a disciplining parent.

"You're getting close to Morgan, aren't you? That's a problem around here, I'm sure you've heard the stories. It isn't natural for a stiff to obsess over their client, especially such a psychopathic one. If I suspect, even for a moment, that you are showing signs similar to that of Doctor Quinzel, I will have you locked up in here, and I will have you killed.

He released her arm, a smugness passing over his face as Yvonne recoiled in fear.

"Take the rest of the week off, a paid vacation." He smoothed her shirt casually, running his hand over her shoulder and subtly establishing his complete and utter dominance.

Yvonne could only nod, she was powerless to defy him, and she picked up her bag from the consultation room.

The lady at the front desk nodded at her with a smile, unaware that Yvonne Huntley had decided to never set foot in the Asylum again.

At least, not willingly.

* * *

Caterina was thrown roughly through the cell door, landing uncoordinated on the white-padded flooring.

The cell was barely 8 ft wide, and 10 ft from the back wall to the large door. Four white, fluorescent disks of light were inserted into the ceiling, and the time-stained walls were cast in uncomfortable, shadowed lighting.

Cat strained to get to her feet, tugging uselessly on her straitjacket in an attempt to free herself. The muzzle was completely for the amusement of the guards, as they called out offensive slurs as she ambled past, such as 'now you look like the bitch you are' and 'here pussy, kitty cat!' with a few rude and boyish gestures.

The door behind her closed heavily, and a large lock was clicked into place from the outside. Cat stood, frozen in place for a moment as she was finally left alone with her thoughts.

She slowly sank to her knees and stared uncomprehendingly at the door, trying to process all the shit that had happened.

"Yvonne." Cat found herself muttering quietly, feeling a surge of remorse as she recounted Yvonne's terrified expression.

"I'm…I'm sorry Yvonne." Her voice sounded strange and faraway, but she wasn't sure if that was entirely the muzzle's fault.

The door suddenly unbolted again, and opened with a low groan of reinforced steel. Caterina snapped her attention to the person at the door, and her heart surged as she recognised the white lab-coat of a psychiatrist.

"Yvonne?"

"I'm afraid not, Caterina."

The man before her was tall and lean, pale skin was pulled taught over sharp cheek bones. His hair was dark and curly, almost brushing his shoulders. Cat would've called him handsome, if it wasn't for his wide and unsettlingly blue eyes.

"I am Dr Crane, I'll be looking after you for a week." His voice was soft and soothing, hypnotic like the gaze of a cobra.

"And after the week?"

His face broke into a small smile, Cat found herself shiver involuntarily. Crane slowly pulled his eyeglasses down his nose, cleaning them innocently with the hem of his coat as he continued in his dulcet tone.

"I've been looking forward to this for some time, 'the great Cat Morgan herself'."

He glanced up at her, regarding her straitjacket and muzzle almost sympathetically.

"What have they done to you?" Crane muttered, and she was suddenly furious with herself as her heart skipped a beat.

"You are absolutely," He brushed a thumb across her cheek, and his gaze flittered for a second to her deformed earlobe. "Magnificent." He finished and dropped his hand.

Cat laughed, an ugly bark-like sound that bounced around the padded cell. "I'm…I'm nothing. What the hell are you even doing here Dr Crane? I remember you, Joker took me to your old house and I got a dose of your fucked-up 'fear' medicine. If your plan is revenge, or destruction, you should've found me before this place hollowed me out."

Crane cocked his head slightly, his face pulled into a slow and compassionate smile.

"I don't think this place could hollow you. I've seen my share of broken minds, you're still rather whole. And I would be honoured to fix that for you." He reached a spidery hand into the pocket of his long coat, pulling out a long, pen-like device.

"Now then," He removed the cap, and a single, long needle glinted wickedly in the harsh light.

"You might feel a slight pinch."

* * *

 _Hi there, Cat Morgan here. I've been wanting to talk to you guys for ages but SOMEONE (glares at author) said something about four walls or whatever. Just letting all of you know while that I am pretty insane, I really don't condone suicide at all. If you or someone you know is particularly distressed or exhibiting any worries about feeling trapped, fucking help them out. It 'aint hard. I mean, we don't all have a Batman to save us, so go out there, be a fucking queen, and be someone's Batman today._

 _Just don't accidentally kill their brother, or whatever._


	27. Saving Caterina

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Dark Knight/ Batman Begins characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **The P.O.V in this chapter changes between two characters, just keep in mind that the events are happening simultaneously.**

 **Thanks, and enjoy!**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cat's throat was raw from screaming, tears stained her face in steady streaks. She curled up on the padded floor, bringing her knees to her chest and burying her face in the scratchy fabric.

 _'No, please God, no.'_

These were the screams that couldn't escape the sound-proof cell, the screams that the guards couldn't (or wouldn't) hear.

It was another session with Dr Crane, another dose of his 'fear toxin' into her neck. The cell around her darkened considerably and she heard voices she recognised. A pair of perky medical staff members, a soon-to-be-bride, a cheating man, and so many others all begging quietly. She was subjected to their last words on repeat, the cries of anguish and the fearful whimpers.

 _'Christ! Don't kill her, please!'_

 _'Cat? It's me!'_

 _'No! Please, leave him alone!'_

 _'Why are you doing this?'_

And when she was sure she could brave this torture, another man stepped out of the shadows to face her. His hair was cut short, messily done as if by crafting scissors. He was bare chested and criss-crossed with faded and fresh gashes.

 _'Sweetheart._ ' He stretched the vowels in his taunt, his painted face pulling into a gruesome smile.

 _'Sweetheart, I'm back for you, isn't this what you wanted?'_

He had a pocket Sabre Clip knife in each hand, the silver blades dripping with dark liquid.

Cat was used to this image, she'd seen him every day for the past week, and yet facing him didn't get any easier.

 _'Come here, kitty Cat.'_ He purred, taking an ambling step forward. Cat instinctively recoiled and pressed herself against the cushioned walls, screwing up her face to muster her courage.

"Caterina, face him." The deep voice rumbled from the surrounding walls, seemingly bodiless. Cat tugged again at her straitjacket.

"Fuck you, God." She screamed at the voice, and instead ran along the walls again trying to find an escape.

"You can beat him, you know this, face him."

She began to viciously ram her shoulder against one of the walls, praying that it would give as Joker watched her with a grin.

 _'Nice try, Scarecrow,'_ Joker sang, using Dr Crane's notorious nickname amongst victims.

 _'Caterina's mine.'_

She stopped struggling, and brought her bleeding shoulder slowly from the wall. Joker's taunts continued and yet she drowned them out, into white noise.

"What did you say?" Cat muttered darkly, her eyes lighting up with deranged determination.

 _'Mine, mine, mine.'_ He continued to croon loudly, and wasn't deterred by Cat's slow, threatening approach. She swallowed her last feeling of restraint, and swung her fist around for a hook punch. Her knuckle connected viscously with the right of his jaw, and Joker stumbled backwards as his lip burst.

He licked the blood from his chin, and smiled again through the smeared red.

 _'Mine, mi- '_

Another punch, this time knocking the air from his gut. Cat gave didn't give him the opportunity to catch his breath, thrusting the heel of her hand into his throat and cutting off his cries of ownership immediately.

"I don't belong to you." She screamed, catching his elbow in a fierce grip and bending it reverse on her knee. The sickening crack was partnered by a wail and the sound of a knife falling to the ground.

She grinned, wiped some blood off her cheek, and bent low to retrieve the knife in a shaky grasp.

"Try that again, I dare you. Try and put a collar on me again!"

And the knife was swinging through the air, its blade catching the light beautifully for a second, before plunging into Joker's chest.

"You. Don't. Own. Me."

With each scream, a new stab wound appeared in Joker's chest. Cat continued to stab him ruthlessly, over and over until there was more blood than not. Adrenaline blurred her vision and ragged her breathing, she was insane, completely driven by pure and unadulterated hatred.

After about a minute, Cat felt a sudden hand on her shoulder, and the world around her lightened. The sour taste in her mouth was gone, and Dr Crane's fear-toxin had finally worn off.

She looked down at the body beneath her, trapped between her thighs and completely lifeless.

"Who…Who is he?"

Crane shrugged and kicked the dead security guard, cringing slightly as his foot splashed in the puddle of blood.

"He was a training dummy, and now he's dead."

With her heart rate returning to normal and reality finally seeping in, she felt sick to her stomach. Cat leaned forwards, pressing her palms flat against her knees, and wretched deeply.

"How could I? J-Joker is my…" She hiccupped and slowly got to her feet again, wiping imaginary sick from her chin.

"What?" Crane glowered suddenly, his usually calm voice breaking into a yell. "What is he to you? He escaped the FBI three days ago and it appears that he's forgotten about you."

His words echoed loudly within her, rattling through her bones and seeping like coolant through her veins.

"W-what?" She croaked, her stomach falling to her knees, she imagined it hitting the ground and rolling out of the cell. "He's out…he escaped and he left me here?"

Dr Crane shrugged stiffly, playing uncomfortably with the hem of his coat. "Apparently so."

"NO!"

Cat's scream was loud and heartbreaking, Crane cleared his throat and nodded an awkward goodbye, before dragging the security guard out of the cell.

"God, please, no."

She was curled up on the floor, screams and whimpers escaping her trembling lips.

Cat looked around desperately, there had to be something around the cell, anything that could make it stop.

She threw herself violently against the side of the cell, and to her disappointment, she bounced off harmlessly. Cat screamed in anguish and tried again, smashing her body against the cushions, but once again tumbled softly to the pillowed ground.

She landed roughly on the bloodstain of the security guard, thankful for the lack of corpse.

"I can't…I can't mean nothing to no one!"

Caterina cried softly, watching the blood soak through her straitjacket. She closed her eyes and held her breath, knowing too well that her body would stop her before she could do any real harm.

* * *

Bruce Wayne scrolled through the many paragraphs of research, a forgotten cup of coffee cooling by his elbow. Outside the grand window, the moon was high in the sky and casting a silvery glow over Gotham.

"Sir?" Alfred walked up to Wayne's hunched figure, picked up the coffee cup and placed it on a silver tray. "I suppose there's no point deterring you?"

"Again, Alfred, no there isn't." Bruce muttered, scrawling a series of notes into a small notebook. "I am adamant, it's taken me three years, and I'm finally finished."

Alfred responded with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, and yet a small smile fell on his lips.

"Mr Wayne, I really did like that Miss Morgan."

"I know," Bruce finally turned to him with a sad smile. "So did I. Let's get her out of that Asylum."

He closed the notebook, the words 'home incarceration' titled on the front.

"After all," He stood up and stretched his back out, grunting with the effort. "It's the least I can do."

Alfred waved him off as Wayne thundered down the driveway in a black 'Sport 718 Boxster', turning left towards Major Crimes Unit, to submit his monumental request;

to take Caterina home.

* * *

"No one cares about me." Cat choked on the words, and stared up at the cell ceiling.

"No one misses me."

As she said this, the viewing window to the cell creaked open, and a single white envelope slid through the hole. The paper skidded along the cushioned ground and came to rest beside her arm with an odd heaviness. She glanced at it in disinterest, and finally had the motivation to flip it over with her feet.

 _'Caterina'_

The edges of the envelope seemed odd, reflecting the white light in a peculiar way. She brought her face towards it, to study the paper, and found that the razor-sharp edges were actually lined with thin razors.

Her first thoughts were dark, and quickly pushed from her mind. Cat then decided that she was being presented with the freedom to open the envelope, and began to quickly rub the bonds of her straitjacket against the paper, hearing the satisfactory sounds of tearing fabric.

* * *

"Mr Wayne, you do know what you are asking?" Police Commissioner Gordon looked up at him from the wooden desk, his hands netted together over the request form.

"Yes, sir, I do." Bruce leaned back confidently. "I am taking custody of Caterina Morgan."

Gordon's mouth twitched into what could've been a smile, instead he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiringly.

"She is accountable for 14 counts of murder, and many more we haven't tied to her yet. I would consider personal safety above being a 'good Samaritan'."

"I have, Wayne Manor is fully equipped to hold her."

Gordon nodded and looked down at the additional inspection form, a pile of positive paperwork. He shrugged in disheartened agreement.

"Well I can't legally say 'no' at this point, this is a special case so it won't call for a trial or legal representation. Take this to Warden Jaidev at Arkham, if he signs it then Morgan is yours as of tomorrow."

Gordon scribbled his complicated signature at the bottom of a few forms, and stapled them together. He sighed as Bruce smiled gratefully, taking the forms from him.

"Bruce, don't let this get personal." Gordon stood up with him, buttoning his suit jacket with a downcast expression. "Whatever happened between the two of you, she's not the same person anymore."

Bruce nodded seriously, and tucked all the forms, and Caterina's freedom, into a manila folder.

* * *

After about an hour, Cat finally pulled her arms free of the straitjacket and laughed in relief. The muscles strained themselves back to life, and days of restraint had left her shoulders incredibly sore.

She took no time to rip open the envelope finally, pulling out a letter and a small, black felt pouch of some kind.

This small gift, this small hint of an outside world was enough to send her heart skidding.

 _'Dear Caterina,'_

She sank to the floor, the single sheet of paper clasped tightly between her fingers.

 _'I am getting your letters, I have been for some time._

 _I was distressed to read that you had ceased writing to me, and found myself missing you. I did get the promotion, and I've taken the title of a great man whom I hope to see again some time._

 _I was sick for a while, I fell in some acid and got a few serious burns as well as other…side effects, but it makes me feel better to talk to you._

 _From what I know, you are completely trapped at the moment and suffering. I hate that, I want to help in any way I can, I want to free you. I have connections with a medical team, and I have sent you some much needed medicine._

 _Use with care.'_

* * *

Bruce Wayne pulled into the Arkham Asylum visitor's carpark, and past the twisted and brass front gates. He glanced around at the bleak grounds, the weeping trees and grey coloured grass.

"Oh, Cat." He muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out onto the concrete. "What did I do to you?"

Bruce pushed open the front doors and strode up to the old lady behind the desk.

"Bruce Wayne." He smiled at her. "I have an appointment with Warden Jaidev."

The lady looked down her tortoise shell glasses, skimming over the afternoon schedule.

"Yes sir, just go straight through." She motioned to the left and down the hall, and nodded at him before returning to whatever she was furiously typing.

He sighed deeply, cleared courage into his throat, and travelled down the hall with a hand casually in his coat pocket.

As he made his way down the long and dimly lit corridor, his gaze travelled to a stairway leading down.

 _'Solitary'_

Bruce gave it little thought, walking surely past the stairs to come to Jaidev's office.

* * *

 _'…Use with care.'_

Cat continued to skim the letter, completely enthralled.

 _'It should free you, it will be mostly painless, I hate the thought of you going through any pain, enjoy the cocktail, Juliet._

 _Don't live for me -J'_

She dropped the letter with shaking fingers.

Was it fear or excitement that sent tremors through her body?

Cat fumbled with the black pouch and released the strings that held it closed, she turned it upside-down and let its contents spill over the cushioned floor.

Three clear cylinders rolled out, each labelled carefully with chemical names that Cat didn't recognise. She picked one up and rolled it between her fingers, noting the number '2' drawn on the label.

They were ordered for her convenience.

 _Painless_ , it was more than these security guards could promise.

* * *

"Thank you for seeing me." Bruce shook Warden Jaidev's hand sturdily, looking down at the small man with the least repulsed expression he could.

"Sure, sure." Jaidev waved impatiently, pulling the manila folder across the desk. "Now what's this all about?"

"Well," He looked down seriously, netting his hands together. "I'm here to take Caterina Morgan from your hands."

Jaidev stared at him with a dumbfounded expression, his small mouth falling open.

"You…You want to put that _thing_ under house arrest?"

"Yes." Bruce replied simply. "I have all the credentials and mandatory forms, even a few recommendations for some extra credibility. Anything you could possibly oppose to, has been taken care of."

Jaidev shrugged with a disbelieving smile, and began to shake his head slowly as he read through the many, many forms. "I'm sorry, Mr Wayne, I just don't think-"

"-Of course," Bruce sat forwards, a friendly smile playing over his lips. "Wayne Enterprise would be happy to donate a substantial amount of money in support of the Asylum. For the good of Gotham, naturally."

Jaidev raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yes," Bruce stood up, and of course Jaidev wasn't far behind.

"You know," He looked around the large office, nodding at the wooden flooring. "A nice Persian rug would really brighten up the place."

"P-Persian? Uh yes, I suppose so." And he reached over a pudgy arm to shake Wayne's hand again. "Thank you for your generous offer."

"Don't mention it."

Bruce watched as the Warden signed and sealed five forms, finally placing the completed stack in a filing cabinet beside his desk.

"I'd, uh, like to go see Morgan now, with your escort of course."

Jaidev fumbled with the papers for a moment, and one helicoptered to the floor with an audible swoosh.

"Oh, yes, well, why don't you come back tomorrow? I mean, we'll get Caterina her clothes back, it'll be like she wasn't even here." Jaidev smiled at him, a large false grin that appeared more repulsive than appealing.

"No, I'm here now." Bruce struggled to keep his own tone light. "I might as well get a tour of the facility I'm supporting so…generously."

He could barely hold the poison from his voice, and if the fearful expression on Jaidev was anything to go by, he was not succeeding.

The Warden wiped his shaky hands on his coat, and cleared his throat uncertainly.

"Yes, sure, follow me."

* * *

Cat pulled the lid from the cylinders, exposing the sterile needle points. She squeezed a drop of needle '1' onto her palm, and sniffed it carefully. Suddenly it all became wonderfully clear, she knew exactly what was inside these injections.

"Cocktail indeed." She laughed darkly, and looked once more upon the cell door. Perhaps she was waiting for someone, anyone to barge in and stop her.

 _1_

 _2_

 _3_

 _4_

Cat counted in her head, and still the door remained closed, she remained alone.

"Give them hell."

She recounted Joker's last words to her, and closed her eyes, letting them replay through her mind with no distraction.

 _Give them hell_

She brought the needle close to the inside of her elbow, letting its sharp tip rest against the fragile skin, near a large vein.

 _Give them hell_

* * *

Bruce followed the Warden down a series of stairs, listening to him drone on about Arkham's wonderful history and positive record.

"There's no mind too broken for our doctors." He explained brightly, walking very fast to keep up with Bruce's long strides. "Caterina Morgan was responding exceptionally well to treatment, we were even unable to diagnose her with a mental illness as of last Monday."

He was undeservingly proud of this fact, and smugly opened the door to the main 'Solitary' corridor.

"Hey Mack!" Jaidev waved at a guard standing outside one of the padded cells, he seemed distressed to say the least.

"S-sir!" The tall guard saluted awkwardly, and glanced at Bruce in a nervous panic. "We sent Whiles to your office. You didn't s-see him?"

"No, Mack, I was escorting Mr Wayne here." Jaidev brandished Bruce towards him proudly, his eyes widening to convey an unspoken conversation.

"And we'd love to see Miss Morgan, if she's not asleep of course."

Mack's face was still a mask of pure terror, and he leaned forward reluctantly to mutter a few urgent words into Jaidev's ear.

Jaidev's smile dropped to concentration, then confusion, and finally outrage.

"WHAT?" He howled, shoving Mack from his side to stroll towards the cell. Jaidev snapped open the viewing window and peered into the white room.

"Holy Shit." He muttered under his breath, and beads of sweat began to form at the base of his fat neck.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked, fear pooling in his stomach.

The Warden slowly closed the window and turned to Bruce, his expression utterly shattered.

"Mr Wayne…"

But Bruce was pushing past him and up to the door himself.

"Get this open!" He commanded, and poor 'Mack' entered a series of complicated keycodes into an access panel, shaking like a leaf.

Finally, the access panel lit up green and the door unlocked with a heavy click.

"Mr Wayne, please-."

He continued to ignore Jaidev's plea, and pushed open the large door. Fluorescent lights flooded his vision for a second, and he gazed wildly around the cell.

Caterina Morgan was lying in the centre of the padded cell, her gold hair pooling beneath her, over the white pillows. A few papers and empty glass cylinders lay around her, including one with the letter '2' that was still in her grasp.

Her eyes were wide and fluttering slightly, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to draw a breath. The '2' needle rolled from her grip and slid across the floor as her grasp loosened.

Cat's eyes slid slowly over to Bruce standing over her, and they lit up with a sudden fear.

He dived beside her, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"I don't know how this could have happened." Jaidev shook his head sadly.

Bruce's breathing was ragged as he pulled the severed straitjacket up Cat's arm and saw flecks of blood over her forearm. "Shut up." He breathed, pressing two fingers into Cat's neck to take her pulse.

"We never leave these kinds of chemicals-"

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Bruce spun on his heel to bellow at Jaidev, who recoiled in fear. Caterina was shaking considerably now, her chest heaving in short spasms. A thin trickle of blood snaked from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes seemed dim.

Bruce grabbed the needle and monitored its warmth within his grasp, before breathing out in disbelief.

"1 minute? I was 1 minute late? Jesus Christ! Get medical down here, dammit!"

Jaidev nodded quickly and ran from the room, more to get away from his erratic fury than anything.

"Cat, please, I'm taking you home now. Whatever _this_ is," He dropped the needle into his lap, and curled both arms carefully around Cat's torso. "Whatever it is, we'll get it out of you, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that? For me? Stay awake."

Her eyes fluttered and she let out a pained breath in response, but he thought he saw her nod slightly.

"Good girl," Bruce smiled, despite everything, and leaned down into the floor so that he was lying beside her, propped up by an elbow.

"I'll be here until the doctors arrive, I'll talk to you, you just need to stay awake."

Cat made an audible whimper, and her fingers tightened into fists.

"I know, it hurts, it's probably agony, but if anyone can deal with this, it's Caterina Anne Morgan, yeah?"

She made no response, but shook again as a wave of pain overtook her. She seemed to be straining to move her arm, to reach towards something.

"What is it?" Bruce followed her line of sight, and noticed a single cylinder still full of liquid, the number '3' scrawled over the label in black marker.

He picked it up and grimaced at the razor-sharp needle point, Cat whined again and gazed at the needle with fixed concentration.

"No, nothing else." Bruce shook his head defiantly, trying to ignore the whimpers that escaped her. "You're lucky I stopped you from completing the set."

A low gurgle emitted from her throat, followed by a harsh cough and a cry of pain.

" _P-please_." She wheezed, swallowing a mouthful of blood. " _Bruce…_ "

A solitary tear rolled down her chin, and Bruce sobbed quietly. "We can fix you, the doctors can fix you. I'm not going to give you this."

Her face broke as she began to openly weep, hiccupping with each sudden spasm.

" _Do… do you want to save me?_ "

Bruce didn't reply, he couldn't, seeing her in this much pain was unimaginable.

" _Then save me_."

With grunts of pain, Caterina brought her hand to caress his cheek. Bruce turned his head slightly to kiss her clammy palm, and he softly spoke against her skin.

"I…I was so close Caterina. I was here to take you home."

She smiled slightly, but quickly shifted into a grimace as she spluttered blood down her chin. He tightened his hold around her waist, desperately trying to memorise how her body shifted and rippled while she breathed.

" _Save me... please_."

Bruce choked on an answer, and brought the needle between the two of them. He was staring at it, at the harmless clear liquid within, but Cat's eyes never left his.

" _It's okay_." She murmured. " _It'll all be okay, wait for me_."

He leaned over her, crashing his lips against hers and shakily tasting the blood and tears that had stained her mouth.

" _It's okay_." Caterina whispered against his lips, and only pulled away for a second when the needle entered her left elbow.

" _It's okay_." She repeated, slightly more groggily than before. " _Wait for me_."

"I will always love you, Caterina." Bruce whispered, holding her as close as possible.

The door in front of them swung open, and it groaned heavily as four medics entered.

"Baby?"

He looked down at Cat in his arms, she had stopped moving.

"Cat?"

Bruce sobbed suddenly, and pulled her roughly against him, so he could bury his face in her neck.

"It's okay, it's okay."

He kissed the top of her blonde hair, and rubbed her shoulders soothingly.

"That's my Cat."

Finally, the medics kneeled beside her to begin working. Bruce watched their movements in slow motion, he was vaguely aware that they were all wasting their time.

 _Caterina Morgan had already been saved._

* * *

 **The End...?**


	28. Long Live The Queen

**Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

 _"Slow and steady, watch the head."_

 _"You wanna do this job, Phil?"_

 _"Uh, no."_

 _"Good, then fuck off. Fucking Phil."_

 _"You 'aint in a good mood, are you Ferguson?"_

 _"Fuck you Phil."_

She felt cool metal beneath her, and a cushion was slid carefully beneath her neck. Cat groaned slightly and shifted over the metallic surface.

 _"Go get her water, you idiot."_

 _"Oh, yeah, give me a second."_

 _"…Fucking Phil."_

Her head was raised, and the rim of a plastic cup was rested against her bottom lip.

 _"Uh, Cat…Miss Morgan, take some water."_

She swallowed, as a stream of cool liquid poured down her throat, and she was painfully flooded with feelings of extreme dehydration.

"Ugh." Cat groaned, and scrunched up her nose as she experienced a severe headache. The two voices remained silent, and she quickly finished the cup of water.

"You sure I'm not dead?"

There was laughter around her, and a supportive hand fell on her elbow.

"No, but you could've fooled us."

"Well," She winced and slowly propped herself up, resting her elbows on the cool metal. "That was the idea."

Cat eventually pried her eyes open, fighting the heavy drowsiness that willed her to lie down and fall back asleep, and instead she took in her surroundings.

She was lying on a metal work bench, a brown blanket was thrown over her lower half and a flat pillow was placed beneath her neck. She appeared to be in the likeness of a factory, or warehouse, as the walls were corrugated steel and the floor was some sort of stained concrete.

Two men in plain, grey and black clothing loomed over her; the taller had fiery red hair and a matching beard, the shorter man had curly mouse-brown locks and kind, grey eyes.

"So?" Cat managed a watery smile, rolling her stiff shoulders back. "Did we fool them?"

"I'll say." The redhead grinned. "Medical named you dead 8 hours ago, we managed to sneak you out in a body bag."

"The tetraodontidae worked a treat!" The shorter man nodded, smiling proudly at Cat.

"Of course it fucking did, Phil, we had it all planned out."

"Come on, Ferguson, gimme a break."

"Fuck you, Phil." And Cat watched as Ferguson swiftly and subtly kissed Phil's cheek.

The two turned to Cat embarrassed, almost ashamed of this action. She merely laughed and shrugged her shoulders, much to the relief of the men.

"Uh," Ferguson cleared his throat. "So, it's been three years, what now?"

Cat shrugged again, the smile falling slowly from her face. "I thought…I thought Joker would be here."

"No one's seen him. We heard that he escaped, and a few of us went looking, but he's vanished." Phil finished, sadly, watching Cat's reaction carefully. "Most of us don't know what to do now."

She blinked back tears, and decided abruptly to save the crying for later, there was work to be done. "Can you gather the rest of Joker's men?"

Ferguson nodded, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "I reckon I can pull some strings, got a plan?"

Cat laughed. "God no."

At this, they both seemed to relax, laughing along as rumours of a 'cold-hearted serial killer' were put to rest. Phil placed a black duffel bag proudly on the table beside her, unzipping it to allow its contents to spill out. Black skinny jeans, a black lace shirt, and a purple leather jacket littered the metal bench. She noticed her prized silver chain, and her face lit up in a smile.

"All of this…it's like it's from another life." She reached a hand for the bag and the memories it contained, before something halted her reach.

"Uh, Caterina, you alright?"

Cat's lip was trembling slightly, and she awkwardly brought her hand back to her chest. Both of the men were searching her expression, they seemed to be waiting for something.

"No," She answered honestly. "Not really. I spent three years in that hell-hole, waiting for Joker to come and rescue me. It took a letter from Jack Napier and a few needles of pufferfish-poison to free me."

Ferguson frowned at her, glancing cautiously at Phil to ensure he was just as confused.

"Jack Napier?"

"Yeah," Cat waved her hand nonchalantly. "He mentioned the promotion again, and an accident involving acid. Taking someone's 'title' he said, I put 2 and 2 together eventually, though it took me an embarrassingly long time. He sent the poison to give me the appearance of a corpse, and a diluted formula to null the effects. God, that was almost the death of me."

She laughed, as she remembered how fucking close she had been to certain death, if Bruce hadn't given her vial '3', he would have unknowingly killed her.

"Anyway," She continued, her smile fading. "I've been devoted to him for so long, I did everything the Joker said and he left, like they all do. What the fuck do I owe him? Do you have any alcohol?"

The red-head seemed confused, but handed her an old-fashioned hip flask willingly. She smiled slightly, and splashed the amber liquid over the bag and its contents.

"Now." Cat muttered, staring transfixed at the soaking fabric. "It's your turn to burn."

Phil, catching on, clicked open a lighter and held it close to the pair of jeans. It wasn't long before the initial spark developed into a healthy bonfire of Caterina Morgan's belongings. It was so much more than just a show of anger of frustration, she was leaving it all behind, her old life, her old way of thinking.

Phil glanced sideways at Cat, her determined eyes shone brightly in the orange glow. "You know?" He muttered. "I think you would look rather exceptional in red."

Despite herself she grinned, and turned to the men with tears shining through her eyes.

"Okay." Her voice was rough and twisted with emotion, "Let's gather the troops."

* * *

Cat stared at the crowd before her; 50-or-so men were crammed into the warehouse and chatting absentmindedly amongst themselves.

"Ahem."

She cleared her throat meekly, and was surprised to find that all eyes turned towards her immediately.

She fidgeted with her simple blue shirt, trying to calm her bouncing nerves. "Uh, thank you so much for coming. I know everything's fucked up right now, and I hope by now we can all agree that Joker…he's no longer in the picture."

Scattered and begrudging agreement bounced around the warehouse, a few of the thugs seemed frustrated or furious; they had all been deserted.

"But I am here now, thanks to some exceptional people, and I'd like to pose a question; 'who owns the streets of Gotham?"

Cat let her gaze fall over the faces nearest to her, challenging them to answer. When the room remained in respectful silence, she took it as a good sign to continue.

"It sure as hell 'aint the Batman. And Jack Napier? The new Joker? He takes the gangs, the mafia, the violent communities. The streets are ours, or they were, until we lost our nerve."

A yell of agreement from the back of the warehouse.

"Are we going to give up this easily?" Cat was shouting now, enthused by the outburst of support. "Are we going to give up after one defeat? You know me, or you've heard of me, I'm convinced that you know I can lead you. Who won't follow me?"

The crowd was silent, a few hushed and excited whispers were exchanged.

Cat's heart was beating rapidly, she had 3 years to plan what she would do after escaping, it was exhilarating to finally share it.

"I want to develop a small team to help me lead us, a team of loyal, brave, stupid fuckheads who will follow me into hell and back. And together, we will take back the streets, through careful jobs and schemes, we will tear Gotham apart."

The support was slightly more skewed this time, a chorus of anger and joy as Cat openly and boldly challenged Joker's previous plans of chaos.

"There will be no more senseless killing," Cat squared her shoulders and stared directly at all the men who shook their heads or squirmed uncomfortably. "We will plan jobs, work in the shadows as assassins and thieves. Gotham has showed us that it can survive chaos, we now need to show it destruction. Let me see some volunteers."

A single cough was the only movement the men made, and Caterina looked around as dread began to fill her stomach.

"Volunteers?" She asked, louder, her voice verging on panicked. After 5 seconds of silence, there was a single shout of agreement from the middle of the crowd.

"Yeah, I'll do it."

The mass parted to allow a corridor for the volunteer, Cat strained her neck to recognise the man.

He was tall, rippling biceps and tanned skin exaggerated through his simple grey tank-top. His left arm was patterned in black tattoos, she managed to discern a twisted rose and a skull amongst the scribbles. The ink-drawings also snaked up his shoulder and onto his neck. His hair was dark and cut short, his fringe slightly overgrown and curly. A selection of coloured wristbands caught her attention, and Cat smiled widely as she recognised the older, but discernible man before her.

"Douglass?"

"Miss Morgan!"

His handsome face broke into a grin, and he jogged forwards to capture her in a tight hug.

"Fuck! It's so good to see you!"

"You don't know how much I missed you."

Cat pulled away, drinking in how different Douglass looked. The surrounding crowd seemed uncomfortable, whispering negative remarks as the two showed affection and thus, weakness.

"I hoped that Napier's letter would get to you, after all, that tetraodontidae wasn't easy to find."

She smiled at him gratefully. "That was you?"

Douglass shrugged, a slight blush crawling up his neck. "Napier planned most of it, and he was happy to help an 'old friend', as he put it."

Cat hugged him again, and turned back to the crowd with newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Douglass, anyone else?"

This time there was an immediate volunteer, a hand shot into the air and all eyes turned.

"Hey, sugar, count me in."

There was no mistaking the dark complexion, head of brown curls, bright red lipstick, and small and curvy form.

"Cherry?"

She grinned, and strutted up to the pair of them, blowing a bubble of strawberry gum.

"You are looking fucking fantastic," Cherry embraced Cat quickly, squeezing the living daylight out of her. "For someone who was in a nuthouse, I mean."

Douglass glared at her, and apparently hadn't warmed up to her in the three years. "Cherry's been…with us for a while." He scowled at her confident smile, but decided to brood without making other objections.

"What can I say?" She smacked the gum between her teeth, simultaneously rolling a match in her fingers. "I'm indispensable."

Caterina glanced between the two of them, unbelievably grateful. The fact that after so many years, they were both so willing to follow her almost brought tears to her eyes.

"Thank you," She repeated honestly, "Now- "

Cat was cut off by the slam of a closing door, and every person in that room grabbed their closest weapon and turned to the small 'exit' door at the very back of the warehouse. A woman's silhouette stood before them, the blinding daylight behind her completely obscuring her features.

"I'm not too late?"

A few jaws dropped and eyes bugged, the lady made her way slowly and deliberately towards Cat, and waded easily, even confidently, through the parting crowd.

"I guess my invitation was misplaced."

Cat was staring with a completely dumbfounded expression, not sure if she was really seeing the person before her.

"Y-Yvonne?"

Her curly, red hair was long and pinned over one shoulder. She had burgundy skinny jeans and a soft white button-down, all giving her a wholesome appearance that contrasted too shockingly with the rest of the crowd.

"Hi Caterina." She smiled, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. "I am so glad to see you alive."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Cat was hugging her, not caring that a few tears were running down her cheeks.

"Well," Yvonne pulled away, and tangled her fingers affectionately in Cat's. "My wife has been arrested, thanks to my complaints, and now I have no faith in the legal system."

"She was arrested because…you spoke up?"

Yvonne nodded sadly. "Because I wanted them to treat you like a human, Warden Jaidev 's making an example of me, needless to say I want revenge."

Cat watched her dubiously, opening her mouth to protest against the idea.

"Now," Yvonne noticed her hesitance. "You want inconspicuous? You're faces aren't exactly anonymous anymore, I'll be your civilian and inside resource."

Caterina turned to Douglass and Cherry, both of them shrugged and muttered statements of agreement.

"Okay, fine, four is a decent team. Let's go and collect some supplies and plan our first job. The rest of you will continue your tasks, just be ready for us when we call."

Caterina nodded at the crowd one final time, feeling more elated than she had ever felt before. Going from such a low to such a high gave her feelings of drastic euphoria.

The company of four was about to exit when they heard a long, low laugh. The hollow sound echoed around the warehouse like music from a speaker, and Cat turned slowly. With the giant crowd and mass of bodies, they hadn't noticed a single man sitting in a chair, his head hung low, and his body hunched as he listened to the recruitment from the side.

"Now this is funny." He looked up, meeting Cat's shocked gaze. "This could not have gone better."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Cat spat at him, and had to be held back by Yvonne otherwise she would've torn him apart.

"Now, now." He grinned, his voice low and melodic. "Play nice kitty, I thought we were friends."

"What the fuck gave you that impression, Crane?"

He shrugged, and rose slowly from the chair. He was wearing a simple grey suit and navy tie, complementing his rather graceful slenderness. His hair was perhaps shorter than she remembered, but his infinitely grey eyes were still unsettlingly beautiful.

"I did cure you," He responded, gazing at her in innocence. "The least you could do is thank me."

She frowned, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl. "Thank you?" Cat spluttered loudly.

"You're welcome." Crane stopped a few feet before her, and coolly slipped his hands into his pant-pockets. "You were my...my most successful patient."

"Want me to shoot him, Miss Morgan?" Douglass sported a large assault-rifle to his shoulder, a rather impressive weapon that Cat hadn't even known he was wearing.

She quickly shook her head, and sprung forwards from her toes, launching herself at the man full-force. Cat looped her thighs carefully around Crane's middle, and used his own weight to carry him up and over, until he was lying on his back and she was perched securely on his torso.

"Give me one reason," Cat leaned forwards, she was barely 2 inches from his shocked expression and she could feel his breath against her. "One reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Despite his disadvantaged position, Crane grinned smugly and lifted his chin. "Because I freed you from Joker, my therapy broke your obsession. How did it feel to take my medicine? Was the adrenaline incredible? I've never had a patient react to it in the same way, it is most perplexing."

Cat sat up suddenly, her confidence wavering as she stared questioningly down at him.

"I-I don't..."

And she was flooded with memories from Dr Crane's treatment. Most of it was a red blur, sour and obscured. Her heart had raced, fire flooded through her veins and danced over her skin. It was a time when her mind had quietened, every part of her being synchronised; she felt unstoppable.

"With all due respect, I fucking hate you." Cherry's condescending statement broke her from the depths of thought, and Cat quickly got to her feet.

"You're lucky we're letting you leave, so take the chance or I'll literally explode your face."

Crane didn't even acknowledge Cherry, his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Caterina. "Well?" He asked softly. "I am offering to join you, my knowledge of chemical-weaponry will be invaluable."

She found herself nodding slightly, much to the surprise of the company around her.

"Cat?"

"What the hell?"

"Miss Morgan, maybe we should-"

"We need him." Cat justified herself quickly, but she couldn't shake that her agreement was rather unwilling, even her own thoughts seemed to be someone else's.

"I _think_ we need him." She said quieter.

She looked at each of her companions in turn, waiting for scathing disagreements, almost hoping that one of them would blatantly refuse. Douglass averted his gaze, and held his rifle a little tighter, Cherry shrugged a single shoulder and stared daggers at Crane. Yvonne was gazing at Caterina, trying to discern her meaning, after a moment she too shrugged.

Crane grinned, and stepped forwards to join the circle of people.

"This will be fun." Cherry's disapproving look contradicted her statement, and she edged away from the man beside her. "Let's make some fucking friendship bracelets."

She stuck her hand in the middle of the circle, staring accusingly at Douglass until he sighed and dropped his hand over hers.

"Come on, 'Team Crazy'."

"I am not going by the name 'Team Crazy'." Yvonne crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, and Cat laughed at her pettiness.

"We need a name?" Crane drawled, lazily flicking a piece of lint of his suit.

All eyes turned to Caterina, as she was suddenly and inaudibly dubbed the commander of the company. She smiled, throwing her hand in the centre of the circle.

"From now on, we will fight under the title of 'League of Arkham.'"

There was loud and enthusiastic agreement.

"League of Arkham."

"Oh good." Crane rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't want our name to be _scary_ , now, would you?"

Caterina Morgan turned towards the open door, where the first few glimpses of moonlight were visible. Four disgraced, dangerous, and slightly psychotic people followed her out.

Just one big, happy family.

* * *

The room was quiet, dark, and thick with tension.

Three figures occupied the space, two stood beside the third, who was sitting in an office chair and spinning slowly. A nearby table was laden with guns, knives, explosives, and many other forms of cheap weaponry.

"Boss?" One of the standing men addressed the third, he seemed to fidget and squirm, uncomfortable in his own skin. "Boss, you asked us to...keep you updated."

The sitter waved a gloved hand almost lazily, and didn't divert from the trying task of spinning the chair.

"Uh." The two standers seemed to draw courage from each other, and one stepped forward.

"Caterina Morgan escaped Arkham, she gathered the men and formed some sort of taskforce. It's all as you said it would be."

"Well obviously," The sitting man drawled, licking his lips lazily. "I know her."

"She's got a former-soldier, an arsonist, a psychiatrist, and 'Scarecrow' himself."

As the last name was mentioned, the sitter rose to his feet at such a pace, that the chair was sent flying to the opposite end of the room.

"What?" He howled, grabbing the closest man by the scruff of his collar. "Dr Crane?"

"Y-Yeah," The man choked, clawing at his iron grip. "Morgan's trusting him now, for some reason, I'm sorry Mr Joker."

A grin slowly spread over Joker's face and he shook with silent laughter, the change in expression stretched his many rippling scars.

"That wasn't part of the plan." He hissed through clenched teeth, still grinning like a madman. "He knows, Scarecrow knows that Caterina was mine. This will become personal. God, I hate when it becomes personal."

Joker released his thug suddenly, running a hand through his mess of green and unruly hair. "Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart." He muttered, almost obsessively under his breath. "Sweetheart, where do you think you're going?"

He turned to the table of weapons and selected a few; carefully picking out three knives, two guns, several small grenades, and finally, a small white object, which he carefully concealed in his fist.

"Well boys." Joker slipped the weapons into various pockets and looked up, squeezing the pearl-earring in his hand. "I hope you enjoyed retirement while it lasted. Get my suit ready, we're going out."


	29. The Asylum Effect

**I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Thanks for all the wonderful feedback, I'm so glad people are enjoying the story.**

 **Follow, favourite, review; I love hearing from you!**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Caterina lifted the glass to her lips again, a far-off look in her eye. Dreary piano music floated from the corner of the bar, as a mediocre musician played a lazy version of 'Hey Jude'.

She avoided the gaze of the man beside her, who seemed intent on capturing her attention. After a while the creepy smile ran away from his face, and Caterina sighed as the overhead television blasted the recent news updates.

"-and security staff from Arkham Asylum have yet to release the information regarding the apparent 'fatality in custody'. Experts are now questioning the Asylum's capability to harbour these disturbed individuals, as Caterina Morgan was in solitary at the time. Warden Jaidev sat down with us to explain the situation-"

The television cut off abruptly, possibly due to the fact that Cat fired a bullet through the screen, but technology failures were so finicky.

"I hate that man." She hissed, probably the most humane comment she could have voiced. Cat took another deep swig from her glass, pointedly ignoring the bartender and customer's horrified stares.

Cat heard the stool beside her creak as Yvonne lowered herself. She didn't acknowledge her, and she merely emptied the alcohol between her lips.

"Caterina, the League are all waiting in my apartment, we need plans."

She nodded lazily, and finally slid her gaze over to Yvonne.

"Gimme a second."

Yvonne placed a concerned hand on her shoulder, deeply gazing into her eyes. "Cat…This is all going pretty fast, and you've been in that Asylum for 3 years, maybe we should talk?"

Cat laughed hollowly, staring into her empty glass. "For 3 years, I've done nothing but talk, it doesn't help. But this," She brought her handgun up from behind the bench, showing it to Yvonne. "This helps, really."

Yvonne blinked and glanced away, biting her lip in concern and contemplation. It was a moment before she pulled a small pouch from her jeans and slapped it on the bench.

"Here," She slid it over with a perfectly manicured finger. "If it all gets too loud, this should help."

Caterina pulled the drawstring and peeked into the pouch, wrinkling her nose as a strong scent wafted upwards.

"Yeah, it's got a bit of a bite." Yvonne laughed, as Cat tentatively lifted a pinch of the dried herbs within. "It's great tea though."

"Uh, thanks." Caterina pocketed the tea leaves and half smiled, half grimaced. "Thanks for the…tea."

Yvonne nodded, content. "It's Bolivian large leaf black tea, incredibly good at calming the nerves, seriously tasty, not exactly grocery store standards. I've found it really helpful after…"

She faded off, her gaze falling to the floor. "M-my wife." She cleared her throat and managed a thin smile. "Anyway, I think people ignore the benefits of plant-based products."

Cat studied Yvonne's expression. Her mess of red curls tumbled neatly over her shoulder, her light turquoise eyes framed by pleasant brown makeup. It was easy to forget that Yvonne Huntley struggled with anything, she was, in all sense of the word, perfect.

"Caterina…I need to ask you about something Dr Crane mentioned. He said he helped you?"

She shrugged in response, running a hand through her own head of platinum, black-dipped hair. "I…I guess. He helped me get over…he helped me deal with it."

It was obvious that Cat didn't want to provide any more details, and Yvonne didn't want to push her.

"Well," Yvonne stood up, rolling her shoulders back. "If you really trust him, then I do too, come on let's go."

She waved cheerily at the bartender, who was still staring at Cat in paralysed fear. The two stepped out of the small bar and onto the quiet street.

"Who's our first target?"

In response, Caterina lifted a photograph between them and pointed to a solitary figure.

"Jay Saussure." She remarked, resting the tip of her index finger on the man's face. "He owns the biggest paper and packaging company in Switzerland, 'Papierflieger'. He notoriously was involved in one of the biggest scandals in Swiss history."

Cat smiled suddenly, and her walking pace slowed. "Not that the Swiss are known for their scandals. Saussure had multiple affairs, but always got away with it. He got his most recent sleaze sent to a nuthouse to avoid persecution, well, she killed herself 2 weeks later. It seemed to surprise people that an asylum wasn't exactly 'five-star'."

Yvonne glared at the photograph, at the fat man with thinning red hair and a whiskered chin. "Right, so, we kill the bastard?"

Cat raised her eyebrows and smiled in surprise.

"Yvonne, dear friend," She tutted. "So bloodthirsty? Our main goal is his 10.9 billion in worth, I'm sure he won't mind opening his account to us. But ultimately, yeah, the bastard will be killed."

* * *

Bruce switched off the centrifuge and pulled out the two cylindrical containers. The contents were dark, soupy liquids that shone red in the small desk lamp. He dropped the glass cylinders in the analysing compartment, and coded the computer to run a thorough analyses.

"Sir?"

He spun suddenly in his chair, the squeak bouncing off the surrounding walls. Alfred was waiting at the entrance to the mansion, regarding the bleak batcave in mild dislike. "Sir, dinner is waiting in the main dining room."

Bruce nodded, running a hand through his hair and feeling it stick up at odd ends. "Thanks Alfred, I'll be right up."

A soft ding from the computer drew both of their attentions, and Alfred sighed deeply.

"Mr Wayne," He walked over to where Bruce was sitting, and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think…I think it's time to let it go." He meant ' _her_ ', but neither of them needed to voice this, the implication hung in the air like fog.

"One more, Alfred, I promise." Bruce turned back to the computer, where the results from the analysis were displayed in a detailed table. He read through the contents, his heart thundering in his chest. Caterina's death wasn't heavily inspected, the authorities and medical staff seemed far too comfortable in naming it an apparent suicide with no further effort.

Maybe Bruce wanted an inconsistency in the data, maybe he _needed_ it.

A figure in the table stood out, a line titled 'TTX'.

"Tetrodotoxin?" Wayne sat back in the chair, drumming his hands on the metal desk in thought. "Why would she use tetrodotoxin?"

"It is more lethal than cyanide." Alfred piped up, leaning down to read the table. "She would need a smaller dose."

Bruce bit his lip, trying to revise everything he knew about pufferfish poison. He had once fought a man who had infused a blade with the neurotoxin.

"Paralysis…eventual respiratory failure." He muttered. "Why would Caterina use that. Why?"

He pulled a calculator out from the desk and began to punch in a series of numbers, muttering to himself quietly. "8 micrograms per kilogram is the lethal dose…let's assume that Caterina is, forgive me, about 60 kilograms, at most. That would make the lethal limit at…0.00032g."

He rechecked the number, and his heart sank. It was too small; the toxin was too deadly.

"Did you say 0.00032 grams?"

Alfred pushed the reading glasses further up his long nose and squinted at the table. His low tone snapped Bruce's immediate attention.

"Yeah, why?"

He too looked at the computer, analysing the table carefully. The section labelled 'TTX' was highlighted red, signifying that it was an imposing chemical, and moving along the row gave the figure…

"0.0002?" Bruce swallowed, his heart stopping for a moment, he was afraid to blink, thinking that if he looked away for a moment the figure would jump up to verify Cat's death.

"Oh dear." Alfred pursed his lips, glancing sideways at Bruce. " _Tetrodotoxin_ , mistakenly lethal, but really it causes the paralysis that would mock-death. I don't suppose I can talk you out of this whole obsession now."

Bruce was trying, and failing, to hide a smile.

"She's alive." He breathed, leaning his head back onto the chair. " _She made it_."

Despite himself, Alfred also smiled and stepped away from the computer. "Now, Sir."

Bruce looked up with tears shining through his eyes.

"Perhaps, now, dinner?"

* * *

Cat pulled the heavy roll-on behind her, its wheels spinning heavily against the marble flooring.

"I'm in the building." She muttered into her com unit, subtly adjusting the hair behind her ear to excuse her actions. "How's the elevator coming?"

" _Eh_."

Cherry's uncomfortable reply wasn't reassuring. " _It…it should be ready on schedule, stick to the plan_."

Cat sighed deeply, anxiety speeding her heartrate and coating her palms in sweat. "Could you speed things up Cherry?"

There was a loud clang, as metal met metal, and Cherry swore loudly. " _Dammit Cat_ ," She hissed. " _I'm a maniacal engineer-arsonist, I'm not a miracle worker._ "

Douglass snorted laughter, but he quickly stifled it with a fake cough.

"I don't get it." Cat was tapping an anxiety-induced rhythm on her thigh.

Cherry laughed, before squealing in fright as a burst of pressurised air erupted. " _Cat, would it kill ya to watch a movie?_ "

"I'm sorry, I thought we were working a job, not discussing sports at a bar." Cat murmured sarcastically.

" _Miss Morgan, you should be working with people you can rely on_." Came Douglass's slightly whiny remark.

"Keep this line professional." Cat walked up to the man behind the front desk. "All flirty banter will be moved to line 3."

Both Cherry and Douglas scoffed loudly and began to defend their mutual dislike, but Cat merely smiled and looked up the man.

"Juliet Montgomery to see Mr Saussure."

The man sniffed and looked down at his scheduling tablet. "Yes, Ma'am, 12th floor."

" _Okay, Mr Saussure is on the move_." At Crane's statement, Caterina quickened her walking pace.

"Shit." She tried her best to seem calm, smiling at a passing businesswoman. "Yvonne, I'm not in position. I think we'll need that distraction."

As expected there was muffled protest from her-end, but her footsteps surrendered the fact that she was approaching Saussure.

" _Sir, My name is Angela Isley…_ "

And Cat droned out her breathy tone, already knowing how detrimental this was to Yvonne's dignity.

" _Huntley's got a lot to learn_." Cherry remarked quietly, though her voice was slightly obscured by the clanging of metal tools. " _Never use a name linked to you._ "

"Isley?" Cat turned down the final hall, and saw the golden doors of the elevator before her. "What's Isley?"

" _That was her maiden name_."

Cat shrugged slightly, before stopping in front of the closed elevator doors. "She's doing fine, for her first job."

Yvonne entered the conversation in a breathless tone. " _Saussure…in the elevator._ "

Caterina pictured Crane checking his tracking data, and sure enough Crane was the next voice over the com.

" _Floor 2…Floor 3._ "

" _Okay, we're done!_ " Cherry had to shout over the noise of releasing pressure. " _Elevator has been considerably slowed. Douglass get me the fuck out of here!_ "

" _On my way._ " Douglass replied, his footsteps were oddly quickened as he ran to the opening of the elevator shaft. "Are you in a secure position?"

"Well I'm not about to fall to my death, dumbass, this isn't my first elevator rigging."

Cat was forced to mute the two of them on her com, as they continued to exchange mildly hostile remarks before Douglass finally said.

" _Okay, you can stop calling me a cactus, I've got you_."

" _I called you a fucking prick, and if you let me go I'll haunt your ass_."

" _I'm not gonna let you go_."

Cat waited, staring at the doors, tightening her grip on the handle of the roll-on.

Crane finally gave the signal. " _Now._ "

She held her breath, though there wasn't much need, and unzipped the roll-on quickly.

Gray smoke poured from the slit, billowing over the floor like a liquid and yet filling the air around her in a white haze.

The elevator dinged open, and Cat pushed the roll-on onto the elevator with all her might. She didn't even see the man inside through the fog. In one rapid motion, she reached into the elevator and pressed the 'close' button, before jumping from the shutting door.

"How's the alarm?"

Cat watched the lit indicator above the elevator as it travelled slowly to the next floor and further.

" _System remains inactive, I told you dry ice wasn't classified as toxic_."

She shrugged slightly, and retraced her route through the building. She wasn't sure she exactly understood Crane's recommendation for using her third-grade science project as a lethal gas.

"Explain it to me again?"

He audibly sighed, but continued with a monotonous and exaggerated slow-paced explanation.

" _The dry ice is a solid form of carbon dioxide. In a moving, enclosed space with no ventilation, the CO2 rises to surround the passengers. Concentrated CO2 displaces the oxygen and Mr Saussure can experience several health defects. Dizziness and difficulty breathing over the first 6 minutes, and a slight case of death by about the 10-minute mark. If Miss Cherry did her homework, that elevator ride should be long and un-ventilated._ "

"It shouldn't leave much of a trail then." Cat replied slowly, catching on to the plan.

" _None at all, the CO2 will be dispersed into the building when Mr Saussure reaches his final destination. The only indicator they will have is that he choked to death, possibly on his breakfast muffin_."

Crane finished smugly just as Cat pushed open the glass double-doors. The street was littered with the hustle and bustle of lunchtime, and light flecks of rain dotted the dark pavement and shone off various cars.

She strolled up to a cherry-red Audi A5, where Yvonne smiled at her from the shotgun seat, and both Douglass and Cherry were packed into the back.

"How's our account looking?" Cat ducked into the driver seat and stretched her legs out before her.

"Still dismally empty." Crane responded from between Cherry and Douglass, his handsome face was illuminated by the blue screen of a laptop monitor. "Saussure isn't exactly leaving his funds out in the open."

Several seconds went by, the silence only filled by Crane's rapid typing as he hacked the system.

"Okay." He erupted gleefully, swivelling the laptop around to display his handiwork to Cat. "We have just received a generous donation of 10.9 billion dollars."

The car erupted into loud cheers, laughter, and clapping. Cherry glanced at the bank statement and wolf whistled, licking the bright red lipstick off her bottom lip in excitement. "Fucking hell."

"So," Cat smiled at her team in turn, being washed over in waves of pride and exhilaration. "Lunch? I'm thinking we can splash out on two servings of prawn crackers instead of one."

* * *

Yvonne couldn't keep the smile from her face, the most exciting part of the whole affair was that she wasn't currently behind bars. The sun had barely disappeared over the horizon, reflecting off the tall buildings in various shades of pink and yellow. She was making her way down Maryland Avenue, having secured that evening's dinner, and was already wondering what Cat was planning for the next job.

She turned the corner and waited at a red light, watching cars roll past and catch the fading sunset in their reflective exteriors.

Yvonne was about to cross the street, when she felt something hard press roughly below her neck.

"What the-"

She was spun around abruptly, and stood face to face with a man in a clean suit. He had a baseball cap over his head, obscuring the top half of his face, and a simple black handgun aimed at Yvonne's diaphragm.

"Miss Huntley." He drawled, his tone and stance exceptionally calm.

"It's Mrs." She scowled despite the threatening weapon, it was a correction she so often made. The man smiled slightly, and increased the pressure of the handgun against her.

" _Mrs_ Huntley, I've so looked forward to meeting you."

Yvonne squared her shoulders, trying to imagine how Cat would face such a situation. She would be a complete and utter badass, and probably would have this man flat on his back missing a limb-or-two in a few seconds.

"Careful," She hissed. "If you know who I am, you know that I can have Caterina Morgan hunting your ass. You think you can take her?"

It was odd, the wave of emotion that hit the man. His hand shook slightly, his head twitched, and the smile dropped from his face as though it had a weight.

"That…that name… _say it again_."

Yvonne's confidence was tested, simply by the fact that she hadn't exactly evoked the kind of fear she had hoped to.

"C-Caterina Morgan?"

And he shook again, lowered the gun almost subconsciously, and swallowed hard. The psychological effect that Cat's name had on him was most perplexing.

"W-Where is sh-she?" He was trembling slightly, of equal parts fear…anger…and general mania.

Yvonne knew better than to reply, something about this stranger rubbed her the wrong way. The fact that she couldn't see his face under the cap left her extremely distrusting.

The man managed a small smile, at least, she assumed it was a smile. The shadows on his face contorted slightly, and it was either a smile or a grimace.

"Dear, dear Mrs Huntley," He tutted, and pulled off the baseball cap in one fluid motion. "Will you relay a message for me?"

His hair was relatively short, wavy, pulled over his right eye in a mass of messy yet well-kept locks. His eyes were unbelievably dark, neither catching nor reflecting light, and merely remaining hollow and inky. His face was relatively angular, dark stubble neatly covered his strong jaw.

It was a face she should've recognised, a face with certain discernible features and yet she could barely place his name. It was as if someone had digitally altered a famous photograph, and the fact that Yvonne saw this man as incredibly handsome didn't sit well with her.

It was only when the last remaining sunlight bounced off his face, that she finally decided upon a name. His hair, though appearing as dark brown, reflected a subtle forest-green instead. Behind the stubble, Yvonne could discern odd markings that rippled in the light, long and jagged scars that sliced from the corner of his lips to his cheekbones.

He smiled, showing off his scars in gruesome confidence.

"I know, it's a bit of a change."

His voice was slow, and he held the vowels the back of his throat that gave the drawling appearance.

"It's enough," He ran a hand through his messy hair, a habit obviously formed when it was longer. "This is all enough. It's enough for her, _I'm_ enough for her."

The muttering went on as Yvonne stared at him, it was as if she was seeing the figure of a fictional story come to life. It was the personification of Caterina's 3-year-long therapeutic session, the tears, the scars, the nightmares; all stood before her now.

He took a jagged breath, before raising his gaze again to meet Yvonne's.

"You tell her," He continued in a low voice, bringing the handgun up again. "You tell Ca-…h _er_. Tell her I'll meet her in an old hotel, she'll know the one. Tomorrow afternoon, not a second later."

Yvonne watched him carefully, and winced slightly at his intentions.

"I don't-"

But he was already gone, strolling down the street and pulling the cap back onto his head. She watched him leave until she could no longer discern his figure, deliberating and wrestling with her own thoughts.

The image of Caterina smiling, beaming at her when they stole from Saussure burned through her mind. It was the first genuine expression of joy or affection she had seen in months, it was a sign, a sign of healing. She had spent months building herself again, mending what was a shattered mind and personal identity. Caterina Morgan was so much more than that suicidal disarray she had been on that rooftop 3 years ago, so much more than that _monster's_ pet. She was finally in a good place.

And Joker could completely obliterate that with a single word.

* * *

 **Side note: If Gotham City (apparently the most crime-ridden city in the world btw) has legalized marriage equality, WTF are we doing Australia?**


	30. Signs Of Addiction

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Please review; any opinions, thoughts, theories, or questions. I'd love to hear from you! :)**

 **Enjoy, the next few chapters should be coming out soon, so follow the story if you haven't already and you'll never miss an update!**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cat yawned, deeply, and rolled over on the huge mattress. Sunlight streamed through the cream-coloured curtains, landing on her face in streaks and blaring red through her eyelids.

"Fuck you." She whined at the sun, and hid her face under one of the many grey, plush pillows.

For the first time in months, Caterina had slept the entire night. Not once had she jumped from her bed in fright, her whole-body sweating, her face frozen in a scream. For the first time in months, she had woken up without the urgent need to run, to hide, to destroy herself.

She eventually gave up on falling back asleep, and decided to stretch and rub the drowsiness from her eyes. She peeled herself from the soft mattress, and rolled her shoulders back. Cat readjusted her large t-shirt, so that it hung comfortably from her body, and padded out of the bedroom.

The smell of something frying wafted from the hall and Cat's stomach audibly pined for the food. She turned into a well-lit kitchen, and took a moment to escape the drowsiness of waking.

A marble-topped breakfast bar was surrounded by several multicoloured stools, behind it, a small stove and length of bench sat below a rectangular window. The sunlight reflected off the benchtops and a small reflective fridge, giving the entire kitchen a homey-rustic feel.

Yvonne was standing behind the stove, moving a number of utensils and pans around the hotplate. She was already fully dressed in an ironed green button-down, and faded blue jeans. Her hair was neatly plaited, swinging gently from her right shoulder like a scarlet length of rope.

Cat plonked herself down on a purple stool, and felt very dishevelled in her over-sized penguin t-shirt, messy bun of blonde hair, and makeup-crusted eyes.

"Morning." She yawned, her voice scratchy and unused. Yvonne swung her head around to shoot Cat a quick smile, though it seemed slightly distracted.

"I made eggs." She replied lightly, pouring the contents of the small pan onto a blue, ceramic plate. Cat took the plate, salivating at the thought of eggs, spring onion, cream, and chives.

"Mmph." Cat thanked her quickly, remembering her manners while her mouth was full.

Yvonne smiled as Cat wolfed the serving down, and in the time it took her to serve her own plate-full, Cat's plate was practically licked clean.

"Ha," Yvonne chortled, leaning across the bar with the plate balanced in her palm. "They didn't give you scrambled eggs in the asylum?"

Cat shot her a look; a glare of utter disbelief.

Yvonne poked her fork repeatedly through the yellow clumps on her own plate, turning them over needlessly. Her appetite had somehow completely vanished.

"Cat- "

Her voice was soft, hesitant, and Cat barely registered the phrase at all.

"Cat." Yvonne repeated, her eyes still fixed on the eggs. "I need to tell you something."

"Uh oh," Cat smiled, wiping her mouth with a serviette. "Don't tell me we're out of eggs."

As Yvonne returned to the pan, to refill Cat's plate, her own stomach summersaulted violently. She bit her lip sharply, a debate raging in her mind. Yvonne hadn't gotten any sleep that night, she had been plagued with the thought of telling Cat the truth. How would she possibly react; knowing Joker was still out there and looking for her?

She pictured it, and the image projected into her mind with scary accuracy.

 _Caterina Morgan, a collar around her neck, her forearms soaked in blood as she gloated over her last kill. And her eyes transfixed on a man looming over her. "I did it." She cried triumphantly. "I did it all for you."_

 _He grinned, holding up a switchblade and spinning it slowly between his thumb and index finger. "I know you did, sweetheart, now I want you to do one last thing."_

 _The blade flew to her throat, appearing solely as a silver streak in the darkness. Joker held the blade with one hand to her throat, and with the other, forced Cat's arm up slowly._

 _"Go ahead." He murmured with a grin, forcibly closing Cats hand around the knife. "Do it for me."_

 _She smiled, gazing at him in adoration, and then the blade skimmed along her throat like a stone on water._

"No."

The plate fell from Yvonne's grip suddenly, tumbling to the tiled floor and shattering on impact. Shards of blue ceramic slid across the floor and the scrambled eggs formed a sloppy pile.

"Oh!" Yvonne exclaimed, and knelt down with shaky hands. Her skin was pale and coated in a sheen of sweat, the vision had just seemed so real.

Cat jumped over the breakfast bar with athletic grace, and easily joined Yvonne beside the mess.

"Hey, don't worry," Cat picked up a triangular piece of plate. "I'll get you a new set of plates today, maybe made of solid gold?"

The line didn't even get a smile from Yvonne, and Cat glanced at her quizzically; she was chewing the lip-gloss from her lip, a strange sparkle in her eyes.

It took her a moment to realise that Yvonne was crying.

"I-I have to tell you…"

Cat stood up with the plate pieces, and lifted Yvonne up gently by her elbows.

"Tell me anything."

Yvonne coughed lightly, and dropped all the ceramic onto the breakfast bar. She leaned back on the stove with her arms hugging tightly around her middle. Cat noticed the anxious body language, and she smiled patiently as she waited for Yvonne to continue.

"Yesterday evening…when I was walking home…" Her confidence faltered, and she had to swallow a lump of raw emotion.

 _'...I know you did, sweetheart, now I want you to do one last thing...'_

"He…I saw…"

Cat smiled reassuringly, and pulled Yvonne into a tight hug, unfortunately and unknowingly cutting her off.

"We're friends, right? You let me stay here, you can literally tell me anything and I swear I'll be on your side. I'll always be on your side."

Yvonne blinked back tears, and managed a watery smile. Her mind was finally made up; she knew what she had to do, what it was her duty to do.

"And I'm on your side," She pulled away, resting her hands on Cat's shoulders. "Always. I just wanted to tell you that…that I ran into some of Joker's men."

Cat's face scrunched into a frown, the light sparkle in her eye fading into a dull gleam.

"W-What happened?" She asked, her voice shaky.

Yvonne cupped her cheek reassuringly, and gave her an expression of 'prepare yourself'.

"They…they found his body."

Cat was buffeted by the news, and literally fell back onto the bench. Her breathing was haggard and she was pressing her elbows against the cool marble, barely propping herself up.

She opened her mouth, but her voice, like her gaze, was distant and transparent. Cat shook her head slightly, and managed to regain some of her composure, she calmed her breathing and sat up a little straighter.

Yvonne watched her, wondering if the dull ache in her chest was a result of the lie, or of Cat's broken reaction.

"I-I'm sorry." She took Cat into another hug. "I know he was still significant to you, that kind of thing doesn't fade after therapy."

Cat allowed herself to cry, the guilt of the action suppressed by Yvonne's understanding. If there was a medical explanation to her grief, perhaps she was allowed to feel it.

"Th-thank you for telling me." She managed in a soft voice. "That must've been difficult for you."

Yvonne tried not to think about it too much, thinking about it hurt her chest. She merely reassured Cat that 'everything was going to be alright.'

But reassuring herself that she had done the right thing was a more trying task.

* * *

He looked up at the clock, just as the minute hand ticked over the 5 o'clock mark. It was well and truly past afternoon now, and yet Caterina had failed to show.

"Boss," A thug approached him cautiously. "We're packing the van, you ready to leave?"

Without warning, Joker pulled the handgun from his pocket and fired a bullet through the thug's right eye, a yell of anguish escaping him.

"Where is she!" He hollered at the bleeding corpse, kicking it viciously.

"Where the _fuck_ is she?"

He continued to swear and beat the thug, his eyes stinging with tears of anger, his foot meeting the thug's torso in heavy _thunks_.

Eventually his adrenaline gave out and he paused, doubled over and breathing hard. The other thugs were clearly clever enough to keep their distance, they surrounded the hotel entrance with their guns at the ready.

Joker collapsed to the carpeted floor, his crisp suit seeping with the blood of the recently deceased thug.

With a hollow laugh, he fell back and stared up at the ceiling.

"Sweetheart." He muttered, balling up his fists and digging his nails into his palms. "Sweetheart, where are you hiding?"

Joker laughed again, louder, fuelled by deranged grief.

Without getting up, he dipped an index finger into the thug's pool of blood, and began to finger-paint on a clean square of carpet. A slow humming escaped him, and more tears blurred his vision as he finished his gruesome artwork. After a minute or two, he had drawn a rather crude depiction of a pair of eyes, rimmed with long lashes.

"I'll find you." Joker's whisper was oddly gentle, and he ran a finger affectionately around the 'eyes', tracing their shape, memorising it.

"Whatever it takes, I'll find you."

He stepped out of the hotel, his left arm stained a deep red. The thugs acknowledged the blood-stains cautiously, and attempted to stand confidently before him.

"Well, boys." Joker smiled at them, running his tongue swiftly over his bottom lip. "Looks like we need to send a louder message."

They all packed into the van, surrounded by a few cardboard boxes stockpiled with weapons, explosives, and bundles of cash.

The driver turned to Joker, awaiting a destination.

"Okay," He clapped his gloved hands together, obviously overcompensating cheeriness. "Let's make our mark, we'll start with that psychiatrist, her lovely little wife is waiting for us in Major Crimes Unit-."

Joker pulled the switchblade from his suit pocket, releasing the wickedly sharp blade with a grin.

"-I think we should pay her a visit."

* * *

Cat hugged her torso, trying to insulate out the cool March night. In the distance, a slow siren was rising and falling in pitch, echoing through the night like a chilling howl. She had spent the day in a weird, dream-like state; unable to fully comprehend the situation.

"I can do this." She muttered, wiping her streaming nose with the back of her hand. "I can do this."

With the knuckle of her index finger, she lightly tapped the door and stood back. After 4 seconds of silence, the clinking sound of a turning lock emitted from behind the door, and it opened with a slow creak.

"Caterina?"

The figure stared at Cat, seemingly surprised to find her standing on his doorstep and shivering in the chill night.

"Can I come in?" She chattered, and he obliged with raised eyebrows.

"So," Crane shut the door behind her and crossed his arms indignantly over his chest. "Is there method behind this particular madness?"

Cat fidgeted with her black coat, averting her gaze in shame.

"I-I need your help."

He seemed surprised, and gestured for her to follow him with a bemused expression. They walked down a bare hallway with dark walls, and came into the main room. The living room was much like the rest of the house, dimly lit, unadorned, filled with only the essential furnishings. Cat took a seat on a black leather couch, it was uncomfortably solid and she ended up merely perching on it.

"Go ahead," Crane gestured a hand rigidly, and joined Cat on the couch. "What is so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

She struggled with her thoughts for a few moments, and found an odd sense of comfort in being so close to the help she desperately sought after.

"I just found out…They found Joker's body."

Crane watched her for a moment, before slowly removing his glasses and folding them in his lap.

"I see." He replied quietly, rubbing the two indents left on his nose from the eye glasses. "And how are you doing?"

Cat seemed surprised by his genuine concern, and she sunk lower into the couch as she allowed herself to collect her own thoughts.

"Honestly," She muttered, her eyes oddly dark. "It's fucking with my head. I know I should be fine, relieved even, but everything…everything hurts. I'm seeing red, and I feel like I can't trust myself, I can't trust my own fucking body. I just feel disconnected, and I feel like without a tether…"

Cat's recount dwindled, and she looked up with tears prickling her eyes.

"...I feel like I'll just fade."

Crane had his hands netted together in earnest thought. After a moment-or-two of silence, he cocked his head and blinked in sudden realisation.

"And you're coming to me," He stated plainly. "What about your friends? They don't trust you?"

Cat shook her head slightly, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

"The problem is actually the opposite."

Crane's face broke into a small, knowing smile, an expression that filled Cat with unease.

"They would never understand," She quickly excused herself. "They couldn't even begin to know the situation I'm in. As far as they're all concerned I'm…coping."

"I see, let it be another skeleton in the closet."

Cat shrugged in response, but she was chewing on her lip anxiously and wouldn't meet Crane's penetrating gaze.

"I guess." She managed, after a moment. "But you have to promise me that whatever…happens, _happens_ …they won't know. It'll be our secret."

Crane held up a pinkie, his eyes twinkling in anticipation.

"Pinkie swear."

She followed him down a second hall, her stomach dropping lower and lower with every step. Crane seemed calm, excited even, and he hummed a light-hearted tune as they traversed through his apartment. Eventually, they reached their destination of Crane's study, and Cat waited awkwardly in the black door frame whilst Crane rummaged through a set of cabinets.

"Well?" She tapped her foot impatiently, trying to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of his actions. "Do you have it."

Crane straightened from the desk with a smile and a small black case. The container was similar to a glasses case; slightly oval in shape with a simple metal latch keeping it tightly shut.

"Here." He smiled triumphantly, and brandished the case to Cat. "I knew I had some lying around."

She made a grab for it, but Crane quickly lifted it from her reach and tutted noiselessly.

"Uh uh," He grinned, enjoying the power. "We haven't agreed on payment."

"What the hell could you want?" Cat spat, folding her arms over her chest and trying to hide the growing blush on her cheek; she hated condescension.

He shrugged slightly, but the gleam in his eye betrayed a much darker intention.

"Let's just say," Crane held out the case. "You'll owe me a favour, each time."

She scoffed in disbelief, but snatched the case from his grasp anyway.

"Whatever, it's a one-time thing anyway."

Cat flicked open the latch and pried apart the case. Inside, nestled in a black foam indent, was a small glass bottle filled with clear liquid. Attached to the bottle was a tiny, silver needle, its tip carefully covered in a sterile plastic cap.

" _One-time thing_?" Crane repeated with a smile, he was staring at Cat, searching her expression as she gazed down at the drug.

"This is a special toxin, I formulated it just for you in the Asylum. It gives you that little adrenaline rush, quietens the thoughts. But if it's a one-time thing you've technically reached your limit, and yet, here you are."

She decided to disregard this observation, despite all the truth it seemed to hold.

"You know," He continued slowly. "It does make an awful lot of sense. You're addicted to adrenaline, to danger, and without Joker, you're not getting your fix."

Crane laughed, obviously finding the situation humorous.

"Feel free to come as often as you like." He carefully removed the bottle from the foam, and applied the needle to the cap to draw in approximately a teaspoon of the liquid.

He watched Cat administer the drug, and she closed her eyes as it began to take effect.

"Caterina Morgan, you're mine now." Crane murmured, and he turned his head to gaze out of the nearby window. He couldn't see anyone, and yet it wouldn't surprise him if someone was watching, someone invested in Morgan.

Cat was no longer listening; she was too far gone.

He smiled, a smug, triumphant smile, out onto the streets of Gotham. All he saw was his own reflection in the window, and yet a single thought was playing on repeat in his mind.

 _Your move._


	31. Fear And Control

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

* * *

Yvonne twisted the tea towel tightly between her hands, anxiety getting the better of her.

Cat had come home at 4am, her eyes had been glassy, her face coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and she'd merely mumbled some form of excuse before retiring into the guest bedroom.

It had taken five cups of coffee to wait up, and still, even knowing that Cat was home didn't put an end to her anxiety.

"Cat." She knocked on the door again, already knowing that it would go as unnoticed as the first six times.

"Cat, do you want to talk?"

Suddenly, Yvonne felt completely useless. She had 8 years of psychological science theory and 2 years of practice under her belt, she had successfully granted several patients early parole and others she had diagnosed and treated serious mental illnesses. And yet, it was all futile.

Yvonne couldn't help Caterina, not anymore, perhaps she never did.

It was hard to consider; on the one hand perhaps Yvonne was incapable, that was preferable, and on the other hand Caterina was too broken to be fixed, that was sickening.

Yvonne sighed, and turned away from the door again, retreating into her own bedroom to tackle the thunderstorm of emotions that rattled her mind.

Her small window was obscured by pale grey blinds, and thus her bed and set of draws were barely visible in the dim light. It never made much sense to her, to invest in anything she didn't need, and thus her house was decorated to the bare minimum.

"With a few exceptions." She murmured aloud, and gently traced a finger along the black flowerpot on her windowsill.

The plant inside had a long, spindly green stem, opening up to a dark red flower. The petals were oval in shape, swirling into the centre of the flower; a black disk of florets.

Yvonne breathed in the subtle vanilla fragrance that gave the 'chocolate cosmos' flower its name. According to many profiles, this plant was entirely extinct, save a single clone kept in ornamental conditions. Up until recently, smuggling this flower from a supplier in Mexico was the only illegal act she had ever committed.

Flowers had always fascinated Yvonne, how they could range from delicate daisies to the absolutely lethal cherries of the deadly nightshade plant.

This interest led her into a small flower shop one day.

 _A 19-year-old girl looking for a splash of colour for her new apartment in a lonely city. She was greeted by a smiling, brown-eyed girl behind the counter. The florist had shoulder length, ash brown hair that was pinned over her right shoulder in a loose bun, thin tendrils framing her face. She was wearing a delicate white blouse, and a long lemon-yellow skirt that trailed behind her as she walked._

It seemed to any outsider that the second Iris Huntley opened her mouth and greeted Yvonne Isley in her sweet British accent, that Yvonne was in love. In reality, she was helpless as soon as she had laid eyes on the florist.

And so, Yvonne had spent a number of years collecting and sampling teas, as well as building a small but beautiful collection of rare flowers that were now scattered around her house.

Her favourite, her pride and joy, was a small pink plant kept under carefully sealed bullet-proof glass in her study. While 'oleander' had striking pink flowers, and a faint aroma similar to lavender, all parts of the plant contained lethal cardiac glycosides. It was Yvonne's opinion that the sap could have healing properties, as she had witnessed an odd reaction when a sample was combined with a set of damaged tissue cells. Her research was fairly unprofessional, and so she had yet to take oleander as a tea, she wasn't exactly confident in her own results.

A sharp knock on the front door hauled her attention away from the flower, and she was suddenly and unexplainably anxious again.

"Douglass?" She asked in surprise, staring at the man that stood before her. "Everything alright?"

Douglass seemed more than a little tense, and he practically pushed past her into the house.

"Is Cat here?" He turned wildly on the spot, his navy-blue sweater straining over his rippling muscles.

"Uh, yeah." Yvonne was slightly intimidated by the hulk of a man, and she thought she would feel much safer if Cat was beside her. "I mean, I haven't seen her all day, but I think she's in that room down the hall."

Instead of following her instructions, Douglass nodded, and sat on a nearby arm chair. The leather sagged slightly under his weight, and Yvonne sat on an adjacent couch with her arms folded nervously around her chest.

"You ok?"

He looked to the left slightly and sighed, as if vigilant for eavesdroppers.

"I've heard some talk…" He muttered. "Around the underground, not all of Joker's men were so prepared to follow Cat. And the rogue ones, well, it seems they've grouped."

Douglass paused, running a hand through his black fringe.

"Anyway, I got to talking with one of them. Mack, we call him, he was actually one of Miss Morgan's security guards at Arkham. Smuggled her Napier's little 'gift', and kept a close eye on her for me. Well, Mack was saying that they're receiving actual orders now, from some big shot who thinks he's the Joker. I have my own theories."

He stood up, obviously uncomfortable, and began to pace the small, carpeted room. His footsteps falling heavily in slow, heart-beat rhythms.

"And they got a target now," Douglas muttered, passing Yvonne without meeting her gaze. "Someone at Major Crimes Unit. Someone who is serving a 15 year, second-degree credit card fraud and theft, no trial."

Yvonne stood up suddenly, sending her armchair toppling back on itself.

"Did you get a name?" She demanded, losing all wariness and walking up to meet Douglass eye-level.

He cleared his throat and seemed to shrink into himself, a difficult task considering his height and muscle mass.

"That's why I'm here," He murmured. "The name 'Huntley' reached me, 'Iris Huntley'."

Yvonne fell back onto the sofa, breathing heavily and choking on a string of words.

She thought the consequences for lying to Cat would be her own inner turmoil, now, however, it was almost laughable to think Joker would continue to cower in dark warehouses and old hotels until Caterina crawled back into his arms.

"Don't worry," Douglass reassured her quickly, resting a sturdy arm on her shoulder. "We tell Miss Morgan, and I'll bet she'll have Iris out by tomorrow, you've got absolutely nothing to fear."

Yvonne laughed humorlessly, and buried her head in her hands.

"We can't tell her." She muttered, mostly to herself.

"Cat can't help us."

Douglass frowned and quickly sat beside Yvonne, gently prying her hands from her face.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, and was surprised to find a few stray tears cascading down the red-head's face.

"I mean," She explained miserably. "Cat can't come with us, I told her they found Joker's body."

A beat.

Douglass leaned away from Yvonne, his expression completely aghast.

"What…did you do?" He picked his words carefully, but was feeling rather less sympathetic. "Did you get between them? Did you give a madman an agenda?"

Yvonne shrugged hopelessly, and burst into silent, shoulder-shaking sobs.

"I-I had a choice," she hiccupped. "I chose to keep Cat away, wasn't that the right thing to do? He'll destroy her, everything I've ever done, just gone."

Douglass stood up again violently, a snarl of frustration escaping him.

"This," He turned rapidly, a finger pointed accusingly between Yvonne's eyes. "This is just fucking selfish, you couldn't take it, you couldn't let your 'Mona Lisa' into jeopardy. Well guess what, 'doc'," He spat sarcastically, his tone rising in fury. "Now, not only have you risked the life of everything you love, you've also lied to Miss Morgan. She trusts you, do you fucking understand? She has been burned and scarred by everyone she's ever trusted and now it's gonna happen again."

Douglass' face was beet red, a single muscle in his jaw was twitching uncontrollably. Yvonne could do nothing but watch his outburst, feel like shit, and let a constant stream of tears fall down her cheeks.

"W-what should I have done?" She asked in anguish, her voice shaking.

"You should've trusted her, like she did you." Douglass retorted without hesitation. "You should've had faith in her, faith that she's in a good place. And she was, Yvonne, she was in a good place, she would've been strong enough. But you didn't want to take that chance, you didn't want to feel incapable of treating a patient. You are so afraid of failure-"

He was cut abruptly short as a door slowly creaked open, the two of them snapped their attention to the hall, where Cat was watching them from the doorway.

Neither of them spoke, Douglass was glaring angrily at Yvonne, Yvonne was staring miserably at the ground.

"A lot of shouting." Cat muttered, her eyes were red and glassy. She was also hastily pulling down her left sleeve, over her exposed elbow and forearm. "Anything I should worry about."

Douglass flicked his gaze down to her arm, and then straight at Yvonne as if to say 'this is your fault'. Yvonne would've agreed, she knew the signs of drug use when she saw it, and it certainly didn't make her hate herself any less.

"I-It's fine." Yvonne managed, wiping her own eyes in case any tears still sprinkled her cheeks. "We were just…"

"Planning our next job." Douglass injected quickly, his accusatory gaze never leaving Yvonne. "I heard some talk, and Yvonne's wife is a target."

Caterina swore under her breath, and brought a shaking hand up to push her messy hair behind her ear.

"Fuck, I guess word spread that you're helping me. I've got a lot of enemies."

Yvonne swallowed a lump in her throat, finding it incredibly difficult since her mouth had unexplainably been depleted of all moisture.

"I…The rest of the League can help me…You're still recovering from the news, you should probably stay here."

Caterina laughed hollowly, a sound fitting her own hollow appearance.

"Like hell."

She made her way over to the two of them, her legs shaking under her weight and her knees semi-buckling. "I'm coming with you, I know the MCU better than anyone, and if you think I'm gonna abandon you, Yvonne, because of 'Stockholm syndrome', or fucking whatever, you're absolutely bonkers."

Yvonne had no reply, she no longer had the heart to tell Cat that she didn't need her. Undoubtedly, Joker was behind this personal attack, and so, maybe Caterina could stop him from doing anything to Iris.

'Damnit Yvonne' She inwardly criticised herself. 'There you go again, using Cat for your own selfish agenda.'

As Caterina started to contact the other members of the league, and began to formulate a careful plan with a number of blueprints; Yvonne could only think of her 'Iris'.

"Forgive me, Cat," She muttered, watching the League huddle around her dining table with mugs of coffee, exchanging ideas for an escape mission.

"Forgive me, but now I need you. I need to use you."

* * *

Crane sauntered down the road, whistling a nameless tune and enjoying the sunlight that hit his face. As he passed a tall, glossy black building, he noticed a blurred shape behind him in the reflection.

He suppressed a smile, revising Caterina's plan in his head. For some odd reason, the entire league was surrendering time to break a florist out of Major Crimes Unit. Not that he minded, to be honest, he was enjoying playing the 'anti-hero', and currently, any time spent with Caterina was worth the investment, in the long run.

"Still picking us off the street? Forgive me, but you seem to be uncharacteristically cautious."

Crane turned on his heel, the full effect of a smile on his face. Sure, enough he was facing a man he knew all too well, a man who had tried to kill him the last time they'd met.

"It's good to see you again." Crane was genuinely pleased to see him, he had a few things to settle.

Joker seemed less enthusiastic about the reunion, evidently shown by the knife he was brandishing at Crane's throat.

"Despite what it may look like," he snarled. "I am not currently smiling."

Crane shrugged, and raised a hand to push the knife from his face. "Come now, Joker, we're both civilised men, let's just talk."

The knife did not move.

"I'm warning you, Jonathan, I'm in charge here, we're gonna play this by my rules."

Crane shrugged again, the smile shrinking on his face as he attempted to appeal to Joker's serious tone.

"Sure, you call it. But, uh, if I may say, you've been slinking around for so long, stopping members of the League and interrogating them to find your little 'toy'; honestly, it's a wonder you haven't found Caterina yet."

This remark earned him a sharp right hook, where Joker's fist split Crane's lip directly down the middle. Crane ran a thumb over his bottom lip, glanced at the blood that coated his thumb and chuckled softly.

"That is promising." He muttered, looking up and studying Joker's seething expression.

"You're angry, it means you're afraid. I've spent some time with your Cat, and I've gotta say, she's certainly something; a man could lose himself for her, forget his own name in her eyes and curves. You've got my sympathies, not my dissatisfaction."

Joker seemed a little taken back by Crane's remarks, and for a moment the knife in his hand faltered.

"What's your point?" He asked, running his tongue swiftly over his lips.

"Ah," Crane held a finger up between them, an indication of a proposal. "Let's just say, I've got my bets on the lucky number. You've probably guessed, I'm not helping Caterina out of the goodness of my heart. I'm even guessing you were afraid when you found out I was with her."

The way Joker clenched his jaw answered the question loudly enough, and Crane nodded with a laugh.

"To put it simply; Caterina is my prisoner now. And if you want her in one piece when we're done, you'll stay out of my way, you'll stay out of her life, you'll be a good little doggie and hide in your cage."

There was no missing the condescending tone that dripped from every word, and Joker once again fought a wave of unease and fear.

"I know Cat." He spat, carrying the 'c' sharply in his throat. "I also know that she's anything but weak, she'll kill you before you can ever mention the word 'prisoner'."

Crane laughed again, a response that was highly unexpected.

"Weak?" He shook his head in disbelief, the sigh of a laugh in his throat. "Who said anything about weak? Caterina's never weak, but now, she is rather vulnerable. That tends to happen, when you find out that the man you love is dead."

Joker was well and truly shaken, unsure if it was the concept that Cat thought he was dead that upset him, or the fact that Crane had labelled her as 'in love' with him. Both sent his heart thundering into uneven splutters

"It turns out," Crane continued, obviously enjoying the effect his words had on Joker. "That Doctor Huntley prescribed 'mourning' to Caterina, an interesting medication, if I do say so myself. Oh, wait-"

He grinned widely, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth.

"-Don't tell me you thought Caterina abandoned you? Oh my, that would've so _fascinating_ to watch. How did you react? I assume you killed someone immediately, but then again, maybe I'm romanticising it."

Joker resisted the urge to clock him again, he needed information more than he needed justice.

"How exactly is she your prisoner?" He managed to keep his tone even, despite the sickening way that Crane's face lit up.

"I'd love to take you through it, actually," Crane clapped his hands together excitedly, as he began to recite his method.

"Well, Caterina has always been so very malleable. Her mind is basically a wad of putty, if I had to diagnose it, I'd say that growing up she had no real emotional connections. Everyone she connected with, everyone who ever helped to nurture her personality, emotions, opinions; they all left at some point, and thus, no concrete foundation."

"I'm sure you saw this straight away, faster than I did, I bet. I just convinced this poor girl that the adrenaline she craved, the sense of belonging, of emotional response, it was all obtainable through a very special fear-toxin. And I have to say, there hasn't been a day where she hasn't asked me for a new dose. I have you to thank, really, she was so distraught that she let me in, she actually trusted me."

Joker was completely paralysed, most of the recount he already knew. Yet he had somehow forgotten about that first impression; at Bruce Wayne's party, where Caterina had attacked him with a butter knife and no hope of escape. He thought that all he had seen was promise, potential for thoughtless violence. It was slightly frightening to consider a deeper meaning, an unconscious pull, one vulnerable mind reaching out to another; exactly how long had Cat been inside his head?

"So, this is how it's going to go." Crane snapped his attention back to reality.

"You're going to wait for me to finish this little _case study_ , you're going to remain dead, and if you're a good little doggie I'll give you Caterina as a treat, mostly unharmed."

Joker finally found his usual self, and he raised the knife again to press it sharply under Crane's chin. A thin dribble of blood ran down the blade, yet he couldn't wipe the smile from Crane's face.

"What If I disagree?" He asked loudly, running his free hand through his green fringe of curls.

"Disagree?" Crane shoved Joker from him, and straightened his suit indignantly. "My dear, _dear_ , maniacal friend, you must be under the delusion that this is a negotiation."

He flashed him a final grin, and pushed his thin-framed glasses further up his nose.

"I'm honestly surprised that you don't recognise blackmail when you see it."


	32. Matters Of The Heart

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **Thank you guys so much for all the positive support, it's so awesome! Let me know your favourite character so far.**

 **Again, enjoy and favourite/follow/review**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Caterina's hands were shaking again, her eyes an unflattering shade of scarlet. She caught her reflection in the rear-view mirror and thoroughly questioned anyone who had ever called her beautiful.

"Cat-" Yvonne's voice was soft and sad, and Caterina caught the heavy implications.

"-I'm fine." Cat lied, there was no reason to confined in her at the moment, it wouldn't solve anything.

The car swerved slightly into the left lane, and Cat clenched her teeth as she attempted to regain control of her hands. Her left arm was burning dully, an obnoxious reminder of the mornings consumption. It almost served as a voice in itself; _you're not fine, you're monumentally fucked up._

Beside her, Yvonne returned to staring down at her lap, filling the car with uncomfortable silence.

Cherry and Douglass had acquired prison guard outfits through careful muggings at various drycleaners, and they were awaiting Caterina at Major Crimes Unit.

She and Yvonne would get in using the ventilation system, a factor that wasn't included in any recent blueprints and any plan of direction was solely based on Cat's memory.

It seemed like a lifetime ago when she'd been taken there, locked in Gordon's office, and eventually broken both herself and Joker from imprisonment.

She forced her mind away from the memory, tearing her thoughts from the detail she could retell it; the oaky smell of the office, the cool metal of the vents against her palms, the thundering explosion and the warmth that rustled in her abdomen as she had been thoroughly kissed and made to feel beautiful.

In her whole life, she had never been treated with the same affection and aggression as she had with Joker. The complexity of it all had made it all the more thrilling, and despite her best efforts her mind went back to that night, to remember it all over again…

 _"Mmf." Cat finally pulled away, coming up for rugged gasps of air. The curtains of the large window were drawn, and yet a silver halo outlined the square as the first signs of morning fell upon it. She wiped at her eyes, attempting to remove the streaks of eye makeup she knew would be there; waterproof mascara was both a blessing and a curse._

 _"Don't." The soft voice halted her action, and she glanced across at the figure lounging against the headboard._

 _Joker smiled; a warm and affectionate smile that was entirely foreign on his face. His fingers were laced with hers, an arm secured around her waist._

 _"You are beautiful." He unravelled their interlocking hands and brushed a thumb against her lower lip, barely grazing the skin and yet Cat felt her cheeks flush._

 _"Tell me you believe me."_

 _She hesitated, swallowing a small lump of emotion. It was a question she asked herself often; how much further could she delve down the rabbit hole and still believe herself beautiful? How blood-stained could she get and still not resemble a monster._

 _"I-I- "Cat paused, and instead decided to lean into his arms, a prolonged sigh escaping her. "I almost do."_

 _Joker nodded, apparently satisfied, and shifted himself slightly to accommodate her in his lap. Cat rested her head on his shoulder, absentmindedly tracing a pattern against the back of his neck._

 _Joker's own fingertips found her shoulder, and he skimmed her skin affectionately before resting on the wound that marked her shoulder-blade. He traced the torn skin slowly, and Cat wasn't sure if he was admiring her work or chastising it._

 _"If you want this," His voice was barely audible, his breath warm against her neck. "You have to be sure. There is no second-guessing, there is no alternative. I will adore you, utterly and completely, but I will slit the throat of anyone who looks at you funny."_

 _Cat looked down to where Joker was indicating, and she regarded the 'J' that she so willingly cut into herself. She had made up her mind weeks ago, and was now unfortunately without a choice or the will to deny him._

 _Cat turned her head slightly, not wanting to disturb her position in his arms, and she framed his face with her free hand._

 _"I don't even have to say it." Her whisper was hoarse, dripping with unspoken affection. "If you knew how much of me belongs to you."_

 _Without breaking eye contact, Joker tilted his chin to gently brush his lips against the palm of her hand._

 _"Here?"_

 _She nodded, her breathing shallow and her lips barely parted. He took her hand in his and lifted it slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of her elbow._

 _"Here?" Joker asked again, and he was clearly enjoying himself, a small, playful smile on his lips. Cat bit her lip and managed a small nod._

 _In response, his hands flew to her waist and in one fluid moment he had twisted her body around and flattened her against the mattress._

 _Despite the intimacy of the moment, Cat noticed an odd level of hesitance, caution, and restraint. Joker was hovering over her, both arms pressed beside her face, an unfamiliar glint in his dark eyes. He bent his head slightly, inches away from her collarbone, and Cat blushed again as the heat that radiated from him caused her stomach to swoop deeply._

 _He glanced up at her, keeping his position over her heart. She heard the words before he spoke them;_

 _"Here?"_

 _As much as she loved this new softer, gentler side of Joker; she wasn't with a criminal for nothing._

 _Cat nodded curtly, allowed him to place a kiss over her heart, and then wound her fingers tightly in his hair. It was still cool and wet from the shower, Cat found selfish pleasure in noting that she was still all over him._

 _"Mn, what was that you said about throat-slitting?"_

 _A grin slowly spread over Joker's face. Cat leaned forwards, tugged his head back sharply and let her lips travel up his throat._

 _He kissed her sweetly and gently. And then less gently, his arms curling around her._

 _Until the sun was high in the sky and streaming through the window; the two of them promptly lost their minds._

"Cat."

She blinked herself back to reality and glanced sideways at Yvonne. She had parked the car in the MCU visitor carpark, and neither of them had gotten out.

Cat absentmindedly brought her thumb to her lips, she could almost still feel him, instead she tasted the familiar salty flavour of tears and quickly wiped her eyes.

"C'mon," She managed in a distant voice, unfastening her seatbelt and reaching for the car door. "We've got work to do."

Yvonne watched her leave, wincing slightly at her cold tone. She had been mustering up the courage to tell Caterina the truth, and still, through the entire car trip Yvonne had remained silent. She was selfishly afraid, and she hated herself for it. She wanted to worry about Iris, about keeping her wife safe; she was after all only imprisoned because Yvonne rubbed the Warden the wrong way, and yet her mind couldn't stray from thoughts about Cat.

She was her best friend, maybe more, her emotions were horribly complicated. Caterina was beautiful, like otherworldly beautiful. She was kind, and complex, dark, and dangerous. Yvonne was plagued with a sudden thought, an image that rudely thrust itself into her mind. Cat was happy, Cat had forgotten about Joker, she was flipping pancakes on a Sunday morning, her hair gorgeously messy and pulled into a bun. She was singing softly, piling the warm cakes onto a platter and turning to Yvonne. "Morning, love." Cat smiled brightly, leaning forwards to peck Yvonne on the cheek. Her breath was warm and minty, her eyes a light, clear green, like jade.

Yvonne wiped the picture from her head, like whiteboard marker, and subconsciously diagnosed her sudden delusion;

'She wanted Cat better, she wanted Cat to enjoy life again. But above all else, she wanted someone to love Cat the way she deserved'.

It was a slight relief to recognise that Yvonne was in no way being unfaithful, she loved Caterina dearly, as a friend, but would go to the ends of the earth to ensure her happiness.

Eventually she caught up with Caterina, who was in the ladies' bathroom and standing on a small, metal ladder.

"About time." Her voice was muffled by the screwdriver between her teeth, and she carefully removed the vent cover she had been working on. The security camera above the mirror was covered in a layer of white foam, and an empty can of shaving cream was thrown haphazardly to the corner of the room.

"Sorry." Yvonne took the vent cover from Cat, and gently laid it on the floor so as to not make any noise.

Cat stuck her head up through the vent, made a small hum of approval, and gracefully hooked her right shoe in the rim. She hoisted herself up without so much as a grunt, and momentarily disappeared into the ceiling.

"Ok, c'mon." Cat reach an arm down, beckoning Yvonne to the ladder. "I'll help you up."

The two crawled silently through the many interlocking shafts. Caterina was able to easily plot out their path, and was only stumped at one of many forks.

"Left?" Cat sat back on her knees and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I don't think it was straight. Possibly right? Fuck, I have no actual idea." She wrapped a hand around her left forearm, subtly reacting to stabs of pain or discomfort.

"Let's get this over with." Cat hissed, she was impatiently tapping her fingers and rubbing circles over her forearm; it was wearing off.

Yvonne tried and failed to ignore this, instead she forced her mind to work on the conundrum they faced.

"The blueprints," She murmured, crawling forward so that she was directly behind Cat. "The air vents flow directly to certain locations, more than others. I would assume the staffroom to have more steady air conditioning, let's go the opposite way."

Cat smiled, catching on, she carefully picked a flake of black nail polish from her pinkie, and held it at eye level in front of the fork.

"Ready, set, go." Cat released the flake and watched it flutter noticeably to the right. She laughed loudly and elbowed Yvonne in recognition. "'Being a girl' wins again!"

They turned down the left option, and eventually came to the desired vent opening after about 10 minutes of travel.

"Okay." Caterina circled the hatch and sat opposite Yvonne, her eyes twinkling with exhilaration. "This either leads to the second supply closet, or the staffroom. If Douglass and Cherry were successful then Iris should be down there."

Cat grinned, despite herself, and carefully removed the screws holding the hatch down. "Last one down is a pussy." She smirked, kicked the panel sharply and braced her arms around the rim.

* * *

Cherry and Douglass were both sitting on upturned buckets, waiting in the small dark supply closet for Cat's appearance.

Cherry had discarded her uniform jacket, and was lounging in her sky-blue button down that was rolled up at the cuffs and unbuttoned one-too-many times down her chest. Douglass had given up criticising her on the unprofessional appearance of her attire.

'What if someone walks in?' He had asked, in response she had squeezed her arms around her chest and sent him a sultry wink.

'We're two fairly attractive people alone in a supply closet. Let your imagination run wild.'

Now however, the two sat in uncomfortable silence.

Cat constantly partnered them for missions, she said something about 'suiting each other's capabilities', but usually said this with a small smile.

Douglass tore his gaze away from Cherry, instead tapping his feet to distract him. Her attractiveness did not go unnoticed, although Douglass acted like he was oblivious. Cherry's dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, the brown and black curls brushing her shoulders cutely. Her makeup today was as bright and obnoxious as it usually was; dewy foundation, bronze eyeshadow, a flick of cat-eye eyeliner, and apparent orange lipstick that was still flattering against her dark skin. Douglass noticed how the blue shirt followed the curves of her body, and he was hit with incredible shyness and unease.

Cherry popped the gum between her teeth again, and reached both arms casually around her head. "So, Dougy."

"Don't call me that."

"Dougy," She repeated, meeting his gaze in a challenge. "What was the _thing_?"

Douglass sighed and ran a hand through his black, curly hair. This time it was Cherry's turn to shift her gaze somewhat as she found herself staring.

"You know," She went on, leaning forwards slightly. "The _thing_ , the thing that put you where you are. We all have a _thing_ ; I mean, no one wakes up one day like 'well what a hunky-dory day, I think I'm gonna be a criminal and stab people in the face, repeatedly.' Ya get it, sugar?"

Douglass shrugged, but felt an unwelcome smile fall over his face, Cherry's antics so often led him to smile, usually inwardly.

"My _thing_ ," He put quotation marks around the word 'thing'. "Was the death of my parents."

Cherry's expression twisted into a scowl. "Well fuck me sideways," she sighed. "I'm gonna be feeling sorry for you, aren't I? Like a little bitch."

This time he fought the wave of affection and kept his face stone cold.

"My parents fought a lot," he explained solemnly. "Sometimes they hit each other, sometimes they just shouted. Both hurt though. And one day it got bad, really bad, I thought they were going to kill each other-"

Douglass paused to take an uneven breath, Cherry had stopped the sarcastic banter and was instead watching him with a downturned expression.

"Anyway, I stopped my dad, pulled him over. It's not right to hit a woman, no matter what. I said I was going to call the police, he beat me, I was kinda a scrawny kid."

"That explains all the- "Cherry vaguely gestured to Douglass' biceps. "-I mean, it's like a b-cup of muscle. You felt inferior, when you couldn't beat your dad."

Douglass shrugged, but the implications were there. "He said he was gonna take my mum for a drive, smooth things over, my dumbass believed him. And then he rammed them both into a tree."

Cherry was staring at him open mouthed, her hand flew to his and for a moment they both enjoyed the physical contact.

"Shit," She breathed. "That…sucks." It was such an understatement that it was almost criminal. Douglass nodded slightly, and quickly drew his hand away as if just aware of their intimacy.

Cherry thought for a moment, trying not to feel disappointed as she curled her hand into a fist, already craving the warmth of Douglass' hand.

"You're…like…. the nicest criminal I've ever met. How did you go through something so fucking awful? I mean, Cat went through hell and came out pretty damaged, but not you."

Douglass shrugged, playing with the colourful bracelets that still adorned his wrists. "Before I moved to America, I made a promise to myself. I would never forget who I am, or what I believe in. I think those that do are just afraid to allow themselves to be hurt again, they shell themselves in, dehumanize themselves. It takes a real strength to have a soft heart in a cruel world."

"Amen," Cherry smirked slightly, but was still clearly impressed. "You think that's Cat's deal, she's protecting herself?"

Again, Douglass shrugged. "I don't know, I think she's still working that part out. And I'll do whatever I can to help her, I owe her- "

He cut himself off, his mind drifting to the days where he tortured her in a murky basement. He swallowed, and didn't mind when Cherry seized his hand again.

"I guess I forgot myself for a while." Douglass smiled a watery smile. "I misplaced my trust, and my loyalty. It was nice to be part of something bigger than myself, even if it was under the leadership of the Joker."

Cherry found herself nodding in understanding, and she absentmindedly rubbed circles on Douglass' thumb.

"I get that, sugar, I really do." She sighed and smoothed the top of her hair. "I'm no stranger to family drama. I had seven brothers, growing up, all strong and masculine as fuck. My dad was super protective of me, had my future all planned out; I was going to become a doctor and study at Ivy League, someplace, I don't know. I never wanted that, I loved engineering, I loved fixing cars and taking things apart, my brothers taught me. So, when I finally had that 'it's not your life, it's my life' thing, he kicked me out of the house. I was homeless for a while, it was actually kinda cool, like I had a good aesthetic going; I stole food and clothes, slept wherever someone would let me, broke a few hearts and bank accounts."

Cherry got a far-off look in her eye, reminiscing simpler days. "But I was always alone, always looking out for myself. That shit got old pretty fast."

She managed a lopsided grin, and Douglass' heart fluttered for her. "I guess that's why I'm here now, part of this 'League of Arkham', I like having people I can count on."

Douglass took both of her hands and leaned in, a gentle smile on his face.

"I get it, you act all tough, but you're actually pretty vulnerable."

She scoffed loudly, and play punched his arm. "Well, I'm manly enough for the both of us."

He laughed this off, glad to be making a joke of this whole conversation. "You're just jealous that I'm so secure in my own masculinity, I don't need to overcompensate for anything." To make his point he awkwardly spat to the floor, parodying men trying to keep their fragile masculinity intact.

"You're right." Cherry sniffed. "I am so insecure about my masculinity, I'm glad you get me."

They both dissolved into quiet giggles. It was a really pure moment, that despite their differences in personality (and height), they could find common ground and enjoy each other's company.

Cherry had a burning question in her mind, a question that she had been deliberating the first time she'd laid eyes on Douglass; the tall, buff, Asian man, with fucking gorgeous hair. Not to mention how kind he was, it was almost unfair; like God was giving the middle finger to all women.

"Hey," She wrestled with her own emotions, but decided that she had never been awkward about this kind of thing before, and she didn't want to start now.

"So, you keeping a relationship in all of this? I can picture it, I mean, you're one of those guys that can balance business and _pleasure_." Cherry winked slowly as she articulated the last word, and was rewarded by a low chuckle from Douglass.

"It's not that I can't balance business and… _pleasure_ ," He imitated her wink, and they were both plagued by laughter. "It's just that I don't really want to do that to anyone, bring them into this life I mean; and I get super, uncomfortably protective. Most girls don't like that, in the long run."

Cherry shrugged, her heart fluttering at Douglass' answer and all the possibilities it opened up, all of the situations she suddenly pictured.

"I don't know," She murmured. "Maybe some girls are tired of aloof guys, it's nice to be taken care of, sometimes."

His smile faded slightly, as if he had just heard something private. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, retried, and hesitated again.

' _Fuck it, life's short_.'

Douglass smiled warmly and met Cherry's steady gaze, he picked up her hands and noted fondly how well her smaller hands fit in his.

"Cherry-"

He was cut off abruptly by the opening of the supply closet, they were both thrown into fluorescent light and Douglass quickly dropped Cherry's hands on instinct.

The figure in the door frame was fairly short, ash-brown hair fell low and swayed in gentle waves at her waist. Her eyes were large and chestnut brown, her face was circular and her small, upturned nose was sprinkled in sparse freckles.

"Well?" She crossed her arms over her chest, trying and failing to make her petite form seem more aggressive. "I'm a prisoner, not an errand boy, why am I here."

Cherry jumped up, her smile warm and pleasant. Douglass couldn't tear his eyes away from her, nor could he fight the wave of nausea that filled his midsection, but he stayed silent; he had officially lost his nerve.

"Iris, Iris Huntley?"

She narrowed her pretty eyes, and nodded slowly. Douglass thought she looked a lot like a fairy from a children's book.

"We're here to break you out." Cherry explained excitedly, and she pulled Iris into an awkward arm-hug, she was obviously trying to ease away any discomfort or distrust.

This time, Iris's eyes softened but instead she shook her head. "I don't care…I can't leave."

Douglass stood up with a puzzled frown, and waited at Cherry's side. "I don't understand, we have to go. Why the hell do you want to stay?"

Iris sighed deeply, and sank her weight onto a blue, upturned bucket. "It's not about want, it's about need. I'm serving a sentence, if I break out who knows what they'll do to Yvonne. These cops are actually so twisted."

She glanced up at them with a half-smile, playing with a strand of dark hair. "So, thanks, but no thanks.

Douglass stared at her for a moment, and found nothing but sad earnest in her eyes. She was going to serve an unjustified 15-year sentence, give up her whole life for a single person. He felt severely impressed, but somewhere deep down, he also felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Actually, sugar," Cherry knelt beside her, an action inspired by Iris's apparent vulnerability. She had a very small frame and a bright innocence in her eyes. "Yvonne's here with us, she wants you to escape now, trust me?"

Iris seemed to perk up at the mention of Yvonne's name, and she nodded slightly. A large, glistening tear rolled slowly down her face.

"Thank god." She breathed, gradually and shakily getting to her feet. "I really didn't want to stay here."

"But you would've." It wasn't a question, and Cherry was gazing at Iris in a similar fashion to Douglass. Her gaze slid over to Douglass for a moment, and found that he was staring right back at her. Cherry appeared uncharacteristically nervous, and she hastily averted her eyes.

In that moment, an overhead vent hatch was opened with a clang and Caterina's voice floated down.

"Last one down is a pussy."

She landed heavily on the concrete floor, her lace up ankle boots knocking over a number of paper towel roles.

"Fuck." She breathed and looked around quickly, expecting her crash to immediately catch the attention of passing guards.

Cat glanced up through the hatch and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Actually, might be better to meet us outside, any more noise would be dangerous." There was a soft reply of agreement and the gentle thumping of weight passing through the ventilation shaft.

Cat turned again to the three of them, her face flushed and shiny with sweat. "What a crawl, huh?" She then looked directly at Iris and extended a strong arm in greeting. "Oh fuck, you must be Iris, you are absolutely breathtaking."

Iris was entirely stunned by Cat's dramatic entrance, and even more intimidated by the loud and mildly frightening edge to Cat's tone.

"Uh," She took Cat's hand and shook it feebly. An expression of deliberation passed over Cat's face like a cloud, and after a moment her smile widened and she pulled Iris into her arms instead.

"It's actually amazing to meet you." Cat smiled against her hair. "I'm Caterina, I'm friends with your wife."

Iris leaned away with a similar smile and kept her hands intertwined with Cat's. "Oh gosh, Caterina Morgan? Yvonne told me so much about you in our visits, you made quite an impression. She didn't tell me you were drop-dead gorgeous too."

Caterina blushed slightly and leaned forwards, brushing her lips lightly against Iris's cheek, beside her eye.

"Trust me," She pulled away quickly and searched her expression, wondering if the kiss was too invasive. "Yvonne made the bigger impression, she saved my life so many times."

Iris merely smiled shyly, seemingly pleasantly surprised, and gestured towards the air vent. "Wow, ok, you can stay with us anytime you like. And as much as I'm enjoying this, I'd love to see my wife now."

Caterina was the first through the vent, she hopped up into the shaft with feline agility and waited for a moment to check if the coast was clear. "Okay." She hissed down with an arm outstretched. "Iris first, let's make sure we keep her between us."

The brunette was rather nervous and hesitant in grasping Cat's hand. After a moment, she shut her eyes briefly and sighed, before taking Cat's hand in a firm grip and allowing herself to be hoisted up through the square hole.

Cherry and Douglass were thrown into a sudden silence, neither of them even made a step towards the shaft.

"Hey, Douglass?"

"Hm?" He felt the odd need to whisper, despite the fact that they were both alone. Cherry was gazing up at him with an odd expression, her eyes soft but her mouth set in a firm line; it was unmistakably anticipation.

"What were you going to say? Before Iris walked in? You had this funny look in your eyes."

Douglass rubbed the back of his neck nervously, taking a few steps from Cherry.

"I…I was…"

He met her eyes, and found that a single band of light was illuminating her irises and reflecting a warm honey colour. For the first time in a while, he felt extremely inadequate.

"I was going to tell you my first name."

"Oh." She nodded slightly, and tried to hide her disappointment with an apparent smile. "Douglass is your last name?"

Both of them were awkwardly averting their gaze, like an unspoken truth had passed between them; there was something here worth being awkward for.

"It's Jason."

A satisfied smile fell on Cherry's face, and she mouthed the name a few times to test it. "Yeah," She nodded. "Suits you, can I call you 'Jace'?"

Douglass blushed deeply, and felt an uncomfortable rustle of butterflies in his midsection. He wanted to smile, to pull Cherry into his arms, to kiss her with the confidence he absolutely didn't have.

But he'd fallen for someone before, he'd left his heart unlocked and been hurt in the process. The song was always the same, and it ended with someone dying, someone he cared about.

Douglass nodded in response to Cherry's request, and she spent the next few moments bringing up funny nicknames as they climbed up through the vent.

"Manta Jay." She giggled, smiling over her shoulder in triumph. "Jayphone."

He managed a slight smile, very aware of how his stomach swooped when she laughed.

' _I'm trying not to fall for you_ ,' Douglass admitted angrily. _No_ , not angry, frustrated. He audibly sighed and absentmindedly scratched his cheek, and found that he was still blushing embarrassingly.

' _But falling seems so easy_.'


	33. Broken Glass

Cat was quiet on the drive home, a trait that seemed to be more and more common as the days passed.

Iris was nestled between Douglass and Cherry in the backseat, her small form sinking into the plush, black leather. Yvonne had surprisingly placed herself in the shotgun seat, much to the surprise of everyone, and had refused to speak a word the entire way from MCU.

Thus, it was up to Douglass and Cherry to fill the uncomfortable silence with small talk about the day.

"Douglass," Cherry was shaking her head slowly. "If you tell us all one more time about how you make your own hummus, I'm going to roundhouse kick your ass out of the car."

Iris giggled and glanced between the two of them, the first display of emotion so far that wasn't anxiety. "So, how long have you two been together?"

Cherry was suddenly silent, she swallowed nervously and fidgeted with her fingers. Douglass was less shaken by this comment, and he put his arms around Cherry's shoulders playfully, a task made rather awkward since they were on opposite ends of the car.

"It's been 27 years." He choked on a fake lump of emotion. "Cheryl here is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

She punched his arm playfully, again Iris was smushed in the middle of this flirty banter.

"You wish, Jay, I haven't even happened to you."

Cat glanced up at the rear-view mirror and caught Iris' questioning expression, she raised a single eyebrow and smirked.

 _Not yet._

After about 15 minutes of travel, the fuel gauge dropped close to the 'E' indicator and Cat hummed in annoyance.

"Okay," She sighed, pulling the car into another lane and straining her neck over the dashboard. "This little prison-break needs a gas station, anyone bring any cash?"

* * *

Cat pushed the gas pump into the car and leaned against the red exterior, tapping a rhythm against the rim of the window. Cherry and Douglass had volunteered to pick up snacks and a change of clothes for Iris at the gas station, while Yvonne quickly excused herself to the toilet.

Iris and Cat were alone and leaning against the car's scarlet interior, enjoying the early morning sunshine.

"So," Cat smiled warmly and ran her free hand through her hair. "Iris, I'd love to hear _the story_."

She blinked up at her with her big brown eyes, and answered in her soft British accent.

"What story?"

Cat shrugged a single shoulder and glanced lazily at the measuring meter. "You know, the stories that married couples have, all that beautiful shit."

Iris laughed gently, easing into the conversation.

"You haven't been married, have you."

It wasn't a question, again, Cat shrugged in reply, but didn't exhibit any signs of further agitation.

"Well," She managed a thin smile. "None of my relationships have been in that ballpark. It's all heartbreak and scandals here, like a bad soap opera."

Iris nodded slightly and bit the inside of her cheek, obviously mulling her answer over. "Yvonne and I-"

Even just mentioning her name brought a small smile over Iris's pretty face, she took a moment before resuming her recount.

"-We met while she was studying abroad in England, I worked in a flower shop, 'Green Room', and she came in one day looking for some seriously rare flowers. Straight away we started talking, I had just come out of a pretty crappy relationship and at the time I wasn't…"

She paused again, searching for the right phrase. "Queer, I guess." Iris looked up to search Cat's expression, she was use to observing a certain level of discomfort when discussing such a topic, but Cat smiled patiently and gestured for her to continue.

"-I just thought that kind of thing didn't interest me, I'd never felt that level of intimacy with someone. But before I knew it, Yvonne was at 'Green Room' every day, and I really got to know her. She was analytical, beautiful, caring, a little pessimistic, and a serious perfectionist. I think I was rather the opposite; I was a complete romantic, naïve as all hell, and I'd never been a particular scholar."

Iris' gaze had dropped to the concrete flooring, and she was wearing a sort of whimsical smile.

"But we both had been unlucky in love, and we were both in need of a good friendship. We went for coffee a lot, spent entire nights just chatting, and sure enough I became unbelievable in love with her.-"

Iris lowered her tone and leaned towards Cat, as if afraid someone was listening in. "-I was still unsure though, about myself, so this kind of terrified the hell out of me. It didn't help that I was raised fairly catholic, and my parents had joked about kicking me out of the house when I was younger if I ever loved another woman. I tried to break it off with Yvonne, making some excuse up about needing to work everything out."

Iris' expression was suddenly downcast and she looked away in shame.

"We were alone in the car, after we had met for dinner that evening, I think it was about midnight and the carpark of the restaurant was completely empty. Yvonne was studying therapeutic science at the time, and she quickly pointed out everything I was really feeling. I was embarrassed, scared, so I tried to leave, I thought she was making fun of me. But Yvonne locked the car door quickly and kissed me like no one had ever kissed me before."

Cat smiled, but couldn't keep the sadness from welling in the pit of her stomach. She had felt that before, the kiss that changed everything, and she missed it deeply.

"That doesn't really sound like Yvonne," Cat chose her words carefully. "Forgive me, but she seems…withdrawn? Reserved? Not really the romantic type."

Iris smiled and glanced over at the restrooms. "I thought so," She continued in a soft voice. "But you'd be surprised, really. Yvonne has always had a lot of love to give, I guess she'd just been waiting for the right person."

"That was you."

Iris blushed happily, and cleared her throat in response. "I guess so, we dated officially after that night. And honestly, I'd love to tell you that it was a fairy-tale romance, but it wasn't. We were constantly fighting against prejudice, discrimination, our own friends and family, and sometimes, against our inexperience and hesitance. We broke up a few times, when the fight was too much, but we always came to our senses again."

Cat couldn't even begin to picture it, the struggle they must've faced as a couple. But the fact that they were now married was incredibly uplifting.

Iris noticed the supportive smile on Cat's face, and she seemed to draw a level of confidence from it.

"We were 19 when we met," She continued. "20 when we started dating. And on Yvonne's 22nd birthday, I proposed under a beautiful oak tree."

"That was brave as fuck." Cat shook her head in disbelief. "That's pretty young."

Iris shrugged again, but couldn't keep the pleased expression from passing over her face. "There's no such thing as too young, not when you know. I knew Yvonne was the one, there was never a doubt about that, the only doubt was whether she felt the same. But she did and she said yes, so we've been married 10 years this year, and I haven't spoken to my parents since that day, but it was worth it. _It was all worth it_."

A few quiet moments followed that heavy comment, implications and thoughts hung in the air like a thick fog.

"Damn," Cat whispered, finally closing the fuel tank and returning the gas pump. "That shit's beautiful."

The two of them laughed in earnest, a weight lifted from both of their shoulders.

"What about you?"

Iris walked around the car to stand beside Cat, and she nudged her playfully with her arm. "Yvonne told me that you were in something pretty serious. I was in England at the time, so I'd never heard of this 'Joker'. I've never been with a criminal before, what's that like?"

Cat was grateful that Iris was able to make a joke of the whole fucked up situation. And she smiled despite all the tormenting memories that attacked her.

"It wasn't love, if that's what you're asking." Cat summarised it quickly. "I never had a chance to fall in love. There was always anger and plans for revenge, we never did the whole 'confessions in a car' shit."

Iris nodded in understanding, but this didn't sway the interest in Caterina's love life.

"It's not always said so plainly," She explained slowly, twirling her long fringe between her fingers. "Sometimes love hits us unwillingly, despite our best efforts." Iris finished with a half-smile, leaning back and resting her shoulders against the car door, she lifted her chin so that her face was dappled in sunlight and she enjoyed the warmth.

"Just promise me something."

Her words were barely above a whisper, and Cat almost missed them altogether. Iris cracked open a single eye and gazed at Cat with an oddly stern expression.

"Promise me you'll never be ashamed of who you are, _or who you love_."

Cat was taken back by the weight of this comment, and she found herself nodding surely. Iris had that aura to her, the kind that always made you want to protect her, to make her smile. It was probably charisma.

Iris did smile, and Cat barely had time to acknowledge what her promise really meant, before a cluster of people approached them noisily.

Cherry and Douglass were both carrying white plastic bags, filled to the brim with colourful candy wrappers, bottles of water and soft drink, a few bags of chips and nuts, and a selection of clothing.

"-Next time they don't have Doritos," Cherry was saying in an annoyed tone. "I will shoot someone, anyone."

Douglass was audibly sighing but still harbouring a subtle smile. They threw their bags into the back seat of the car and Cherry tossed the armful of clothing to Iris, who barely caught it in time.

"You're lucky I picked these out." Cherry was glaring at Douglass playfully.

"This man has no fashion sense."

He shrugged in response, but was muttering something along the lines of ' _what the hell is clashing?_ '

Iris unfolded the faded blue skinny jeans, large white-knit sweater, and inspected the light brown ankle boots with deflated enthusiasm.

"Great," She managed in a reasonably light tone. "You almost got some colour in here, what a disaster that would've been."

Cherry shrugged the comment off and stretched in her recently changed outfit, the security guard disguises had been left forgotten in the ice-cream freezer of the gas station.

"Well, sugar." She gestured down to her black jeans, black leather jacket, and scandalously grey t-shirt. "I make this work, monochrome is unbelievably sexy."

Iris winced slightly, but pulled the white sweater over her prison-issued tank top. "I've never been one for ' _sexy_ ', I like to say _graceful_ , or _lovely_."

Cherry laughed and tapped her nose. "Yvonne might disagree."

Douglass was wearing a simple generic sweater in light grey, a dark grey beanie over his curls, and dark blue jeans messily tucked into deep brown boots. The outfit looked more expensive than it probably was.

"Damn," Caterina shamelessly let her eyes wander over his form. "I don't mean to objectify you, Douglass, but _Damn_."

Cherry nodded proudly and lifted her hands to her eyes, framing him like a work of art. "This outfit brought to you by yours truly, you're welcome ladies."

He blushed slightly, nervousness halting any snide remarks he might've made. Douglass remained a good sport, however, and even did a turn to showcase the outfit, smiling constantly.

Cat felt mildly under dressed in her own black on black outfit. She was donning plain, black running tights and a black tank top that was tied into a knot at her waist, so that a sliver of midsection was showing.

"Oh, c'mon." Cherry noticed Cat glancing down at her own outfit, and she cracked open a can of energy drink with a disapproving expression.

"You know you look fine as all hell, it's like you don't even have to try." Her aggressive remark was obviously good natured, and Cat found herself grinning despite herself.

"Damn 'Megan Fox' types." Cherry muttered into her can. "Even coming straight out of a nuthouse, you looked like you were doing an obscure urban photoshoot."

Cat opened her mouth to retort, before a thunderous explosion caught her mid-word.

* * *

A second explosion shook the air, and a metallic twang forced them to jump forwards as something ricocheted violently against the gas pump behind them.

Caterina found that her hearing was suddenly thrown out, and a low muffled hum replaced everything.

The rest of her senses seemed to kick in at this point, and she grabbed as many bodies as she could and threw them all to the ground, taking shelter behind their red Audi.

More explosive twangs boomed around the four of them and a few perfectly round holes drilled their way into the car's body.

Iris was leaning aggressively against the tire of the car, her hands thrown over her ears and her faced screwed up in terror. Cat reached for her and grabbed her arm assuredly, the only way she was willing to escape was with Iris on her arm. Cherry and Douglass were further down the car's body and cowering behind the front wheel, Douglass had Cherry's head against his shoulder and had one arm secured around her waist, the other hand was held against his own ear.

Cat wildly observed their surroundings and noted a few very real and very serious factors;

The car was already severely bullet-ridden, and it was sheer luck that none of them had been shot yet but that fear became more real the longer they remained. The gas pump behind them was also feeling the effect of the gunshots, and Cat remembered all too well how easily fuel ignited, one punctured bullet would probably kill them all.

Their only option was to make a run for the kiosk and take cover between the many shelves. There would be a fire alarm inside, and at least two fire exits that might offer escape. Cat assessed the building to their immediate left and counted the length of the trip.

"4 seconds at least." She muttered, and glanced around to her right, where the toilets were still seemingly untouched by bullets. "15 seconds." Her assessment dropped her spirits considerably, and she looked over at Iris sadly.

"We have to move." Cat shouted above the blasts that where still rocking the air. "Kiosk, stay behind me."

Iris managed to open her eyes, and her expression was desperate, tears streaked her trembling face.

"N-No." She shouted back, "Not without Yvonne."

Cat kicked the tire in frustration, but knew that leaving Yvonne behind was never an option. She crawled over to where Cherry and Douglass were still sheltering, her heart racing at each new gunshot.

"Kiosk." Douglass shouted over the noise, apparently, he had come to a similar conclusion. Cat nodded and motioned to the right, indicating the restrooms.

"Take Iris, keep her safe, I'll get Yvonne. Get a car and meet us at the back."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but Cat gestured to Cherry who was still securely within his grasp.

"Protect her." Cat shouted, eyeing him seriously. " _She needs you_."

Douglass swallowed his argument, and nodded, before jerking down violently as a bullet narrowly missed his shoulder.

"Fuck." He shouted, and Cat noted that she'd never heard him swear before. They must be in really deep shit.

They no longer had the luxury to wait around and make plans, Douglass dragged Cherry along the car and pulled Iris into his other arm, keeping both girls tight against his chest. He looked down at the ground and breathed raggedly, counting out the bullets and waiting for the reload. Eventually the pattern of fire hiccupped slightly as the shooter/s reloaded, and both Douglass and Cat kicked off from the ground into a sprint.

Caterina was barely aware of her surroundings, she kept her head low and was only going by what she could see directly before her. She swerved around a row of gas pumps, jumped over a water tank and hose, and narrowly missed a bucket of tire maintenance equipment. Behind her, cement and clumps of dirt flew into the air as bullets dislodged them violently. The automatic gun was slow on the aim, so Cat was merely trailing the bullets without actually receiving any.

The danger here was if she stopped, if she let the gun catch up to her, she would be killed immediately.

Cat glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Douglass, Cherry, and Iris duck between the automatic glass doors of the kiosk. They had barely cleared the entrance, before the panes of glass vibrated dangerously from hundreds of bullet holes. Shards of glass exploded from the metal frame and sprinkled the ground like raindrops, the sound was almost deafening.

 _Who the fuck needs hearing anyway_ , Cat thought bitterly, and she returned her attention to the toilet which was now barely 10 feet in front of her. She had no time to knock on the door, or force it open, both of those actions would leave her vulnerable to being shot in the face.

"Yvonne." Cat screamed at the top of her lungs, praying that her voice would carry above the echoing gunshots.

"Yvonne, open the door in 5 seconds."

No reply.

On the one hand, Cat would burst through an open door safely to retrieve Yvonne; on the other hand, Cat would crash headfirst into a toilet door.

 _Not exactly the way she wanted to die._

Cat mustered up the courage and blinked rapidly, watching the blue door of the toilet blur in and out of focus, her legs were starting to feel the effects of the sprint, and her breathing was low and ragged. Just as her nose was about to make contact with the door, it swung open and Cat burst inside.

She had no time to be grateful, she grabbed Yvonne and hauled her down to the tiled floor just as a line of bullets passed inches above their heads. Cat groaned and glanced down at her right wrist, which was squashed awkwardly under her shoulder at an odd angle.

"Exit?" Cat screamed, Yvonne managed a nod and pointed a shaking finger at a window over the sink, luckily too far left for the bullets to reach.

Cat hauled Yvonne up by her elbows and threw them both against the yellow wall, so they were directly below the opaque square window. Yvonne wiped her eyes and swallowed, and Cat took the quiet moment to assess the damage;

Yvonne was easily standing on both legs, and her arms were strongly pressed against the tiled wall. The only injury that Cat could discern was a deep red bruise beside her right eye. Cat, on the other hand, could feel blood trickling from her mouth, and her wrist was burning in a familiar way.

Cat glanced around for a weapon to break the window with, before Yvonne motioned at the heel of her black combat boots.

"' _Being a girl_ '." Cat grinned, and quickly untied her laces. She held the heel securely in her hand, and brought it to the center of the window rapidly. It bounced off the glass but created a thin crack. Cat repeated the action, this time the crack splintered further outward, creating a web-like appearance.

"Is Iris okay?"

Yvonne stopped Cat quickly with a hand on her shoulder, her expression deadly serious.

"She's fine." Cat hit the window again. "Douglass and Cherry have her."

The window finally gave in and shattered quickly, both Cat and Yvonne ducked to avoid the projectiles of glass.

Cat roughly tugged at Yvonne's burgundy leather jacket, indicating what she wanted. Yvonne caught on and quickly shrugged her jacket off, offering it to Cat.

"Wait," She stopped Cat again, brushing a few coils of red hair from her face. "I need to tell you something."

Cat was already placing the jacket carefully over the shards of glass on the window frame, allowing them a safe exit.

"Not now." Cat shouted over her shoulder. "Follow me, keep your head low."

And she was gone, using the jacket to lever her weight up and over the ledge.

* * *

Cat was out in the open street, looking at the busy road and praying that Douglass had made it out. The whirring of morning traffic was nothing to the bullets she had heard, and it was a relief to be met with a quieter environment. Yvonne appeared beside her with an agitated expression, like her struggle currently wasn't the gun fight.

"I have to tell you-"

And again she was cut off as a black Sedan screeched to a halt beside them. The traffic of civilian cars was forced to swerve around and a few horns were blared in protest.

Cat seized the handle of the passenger side and roughly pulled it open, hauling Yvonne in behind her.

Douglass was behind the wheel, he had discarded the beanie and was nursing some sort of bleeding cut on his forearm. Iris was riding shotgun beside him and appeared to be paralysed in fear.

Cherry was on the far left of the passenger side, and she helped Yvonne into the middle seat while Cat shut the door behind them.

As soon as they were all inside, Douglass swerved the car sharply to the left and joined the line of traffic, leaving a trail of smoke and blaring horns behind them. Cat glanced out of the window, and wondered if attempting to blend in was the best strategy.

The gas station was shrinking behind them, and Cat allowed herself a sigh of relief, before a number of white trucks sped out of the driveway and zipped down the road, dodging cars and knocking down the occasional traffic cone.

"Fuck!" She shouted, and turned to Douglass, who was watching the vans through the rear-view mirror. "Car chase."

He tugged the wheel and lurched the car left, before stepping down on the accelerator. The car flew forwards between lanes, occasionally knocking the mirrors off passing cars in small explosions of sparks.

The vans mirrored their movements, until they were directly behind them and gaining.

"We need cover." Cherry howled, just as a bullet ricocheted off their left door. Douglass swore under his breath and stamped his foot down on the breaks, spinning the steering wheel frantically. They drifted left in a haze of exhaust, narrowly missing a grey Station Wagon, and flew down a less populated side street.

Cat lowered her window and glanced out at the street, sure enough four white vans had made the turn and were barrelling down the road, making up for lost speed.

Douglass drifted again, the breaks groaning in protest as he took an immediate right. The entire car lurched sideways sickeningly, and Cherry smashed her head roughly against the passenger window. Cat leaned over and checked her pulse, she found a heartbeat and eyed the blood that was oozing from a gash along Cherry's forehead.

Douglass was busy trying to navigate their route and Cat decided that now was not the time to request safer driving.

He barrelled down the street and noticed a sharp left at the end; if the turn wasn't made, then the car would crash into a large brick apartment building.

At the last second, he hauled the steering wheel and the entire car slid sideways, until their passenger-side door hit the apartments gently. Douglass accelerated them again, and Cat turned her head, just in time to see three vans successfully make the turn, the last hit the apartments dead on and was flattened like cardboard.

"One down." She yelled above the squeal of tires. "Three to go."

Douglass had a stare of absolute concentration, his mouth was set in a firm line and his knuckles were holding the wheel so tight that they had become pale white.

"Hng." Cherry stirred slowly, blinking awake and coughing some blood down her shirt. "We still alive?"

Cat nodded, motioning at Douglass. "He's a demon behind the wheel. Your boyfriend is badass."

Rather than correct her mistake, Cherry smiled and wiped the blood from her chin. "Yeah he is." She slurred in a singsong voice. "If I faint, please keep me alive, mkay?"

Cat nodded as Cherry passed out again, her head lolling backwards on the headrest of the leather seat.

Meanwhile, Douglass had managed to lose a second van, a large truck happened to fly down one of the intersecting roads and collided with the van's back wheel, sending it spiralling back down the road.

He swerved right, and left, right, and right again. Cat wasn't sure if he had an actual destination, or if he was merely taking random roads.

Eventually it became clear that he had a clear motive, as Cat saw before her.

"Oh shit, no." Cat breathed. "Douglass, don't fucking do it."

 _He did fucking do it_.

They hit the steps dead on, and immediately were thrown into the air like a sack of potatoes. The lurching started instantly, the entire car was thrown up and down like a mutant seesaw, if the seesaw was gasoline powered.

Cat held desperately onto her seat and watched the world vibrate around her, she kept banging her head against the ceiling of the cabin as they dipped and rose. Iris was screaming, Yvonne had tears running down her cheeks, Cherry was lucky enough to be unconscious, but her limp form was madly flying about like a rag doll.

"D-o-u-g-l-a-s-s." Cat hiccupped, her words barely distinguishable. "S-t-o-p."

Iris had quietened down but was looking oddly pale, her head rolling forwards and backwards with the rhythm of the car.

It had to be the longest set of fucking steps in the universe. But eventually, they met solid ground again and paused.

Everyone was silent, everyone was clinging to a surface.

Douglass leaned over to glance out the window, and watched in satisfaction as no vans attempted the long stairway.

"I knew it." He breathed triumphantly, his voice shaking with adrenaline. "Vans are far too top heavy."

Iris was breathing heavily; her pale face had transformed into a sickly shade of green. After a few moments she leaned forward and retched to the floor.

"Yeah." Cat eyed her, feeling both relieved and sickeningly dizzy. "Pretty much sums it up."

Iris wiped her chin with shaky fingers, and attempted a small smile.

"That was impressive." Iris managed, though she was still shivering in fear. "You got us out of that."

Douglass smiled at her and leaned back, to assess the damage in the backseat. "You girls alright?"

"I think Cherry has a mild concussion." Cat replied, checking her pulse again and finding that she was thankfully still alive. "And my wrist is probably broken."

Douglass grinned again despite everything, and gave her two thumbs-up.

"All in all, a successful car chase."

* * *

Their Sudan was badly beaten and suffering a number of broken windows, not too mention the smell of Iris' discomfort. In conclusion, they had to find a new car pretty quickly.

Douglass picked out a simple ocean-blue Ford Mustang, and requested pretty loudly not to drive again.

Cat had no objections and she happily slid into the driver seat, while Cherry, Douglass and Yvonne took the back. Iris quickly called 'shotgun', and Cat felt selfishly pleased that she was allowed more time with her; Iris was really pleasant company.

"Chocolate?"

Cat swivelled around to plunge her hand into the yellow packaging. She popped a red one in her mouth and regarded Cherry quickly.

"You ok?" Cat brushed her fingertips against Cherry's forehead, where most of the blood had been cleaned off but a thin line remained.

"Fine." Cherry smiled and retreated with the chocolate, though she looked a little dazed and sore. "Let's just get back to the apartment."

Cat pulled the car into the main road again, and wound the two front windows down. Air rushed through the open space, blowing her blonde hair behind her and cooling her face.

She sighed happily, resting one of her forearms along the window's frame. Iris leaned forward to tinker with the radio, she also had an arm out the window.

Finally, the radio crackled to life and a familiar song began to sing sweetly through the car.

"Ugh, yes." Cat tapped the window frame passionately, and leaned into the music, causing Iris to turn the volume up with a smile.

" _O Rock of Ages, do not crumble, love is breathing still!_ "

Cat found to her delight that Iris was heartily singing along with her. The people in the backseat were too busy chatting amongst themselves to appreciate the music.

" _O Lady Moon, shine down a little people magic if you will_."

Cat dramatically drummed her hand against the window frame to the electric guitar solo, simultaneously tapping the beat with her foot.

Iris had her eyes closed, and her forefingers jumping rapidly as if playing the song on a keyboard. Cat recognised the fingers of a piano player, and she made a mental note to ask Iris about it later.

"Fucking awesome." Cat sighed, as the song faded off into simple chords. "I'm impressed you know that song."

Iris laughed and pointed to herself. "Classic rock." She then pointed behind her to Yvonne, who was deep in conversation with Cherry. "Indie Acoustic." She finished with a grin, and the two of them dissolved into giggles.

"I honestly love you." Cat managed between laughs.

Iris took her hand loosely, and played absentmindedly with her fingers.

"Ditto," She said with a warm smile, before her expression melted into a more serious kind.

"I have to ask you something, I think now would be the best time."

Cat shrugged and beckoned for her to continue. "Knock yourself out."

Iris sighed and attempted to draw confidence from the air, before she glanced behind her and watched Yvonne with a wistful expression.

"Look, if all goes well, if we get home and it's all quiet again." Iris paused, twirling her fringe between her fingers. She seemed to be incredibly nervous, and was chewing the skin from her bottom lip.

"You're allowed to say 'no', I completely understand, there's no pressure or anything…But Yvonne and I have wanted to adopt for a while."

Cat smiled hugely, and gave Iris the safest side-hug she could while driving. "That's fucking awesome, you would be the coolest moms."

Her words relieved Iris greatly, and she laughed nervously in response.

"Yeah, well, I was wondering if you wanted to be the godmother."

Cat took a moment to process what she was being offered, and her face was a mask of complete awe.

"Y-You what?"

Iris laughed and returned the side-hug, her eyes twinkling with happy tears.

" _Godmother_ , Aunty Cat. You would be the coolest Aunty, teaching the kid all the important life lessons."

Cat tried to hide the fact that she was wiping tears from her eyes, but Iris noticed them and hugged her again.

"Of course," She continued with a warm smile. "It would probably be best for you to stay with us, we have a spare room and could really use help with the rent."

Cat had a million replies, a million ways to say ' _thank you_ '. But in the time she was given, she didn't manage one.

Before she could accept Iris' offer, a white van suddenly slammed into the passenger side of the Mustang at full speed, sending the entire car spinning like a top.

The driver of the van was lying on the asphalt; having flown through the windscreen, and was now missing half his face.

The Mustang was barely still whole, all the windows were shattered and the entire passenger side was caved in like an aluminium can.

Cherry, Douglass, Yvonne, Iris, and Cat were all lying haphazardly in the car, unconscious, and drenched in blood.

* * *

 **'Brighton Rock' -Queen (Awesome song, check it out)**


	34. Cuts And Bruises

**Thank you so much for getting this far with me, whether you've been with me from the start or just binging now; I love you all. I'm hoping to make the next chapters fairly full on, as I really want to end the story soon.**

 **BUT this doesn't mean I don't want to write more stories, this experience has been so awesome that I definitely want to keep writing. If you have any requests, characters, plots, ideas, prompts, quotes, fandoms, OTP's, NOTPs, anything you want, I'd love to hear about it.**

 **Follow the story for more updates in the future. Big reveal in this chapter, so look out for that ;)**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Caterina had strange, faceless dreams.

When she finally awoke, the walls were white, the floor was white; and the elderly woman before her was also clad in thick, white material.

"Responsive."

Her soft voice pooled in and out of Cat's mind, yet she failed to understand a single word.

"Blood pressure is fairly good. 130 over 70. Heart rate seems stable at 60. How're you feeling, sweetie?"

Cat could only respond with a slight grunt, her eyelids fluttering in anguish. She was staring at the lady, wondering why she was surrounded by yellow and silver pinpoint stars.

"You've got a mild concussion, sweetie, nothing to be upset about, you might feel a little foggy."

A _little_ foggy was an understatement. Cat's head felt like the smoking wreckage of an arson-attack. She couldn't discern why she felt this way, why she had a 'concussion', or why the star-lady was adjusting some sort of tube that was connected to her arm.

Suddenly, it all came crashing into her at such a force that she visibly shuddered; _The explosive sound of metal striking metal, the world flipping around, the steering wheel getting closer to her face, and finally, an unbelievable pain in her forehead, like her temple was being cut open by a white-hot knife._

"Th-the others?" Cat croaked, her voice felt like it had been harbouring wasps for months. The effort pushed her into a raspy coughing fit.

The nurse carefully handed her a Styrofoam cup of cool water and helped Cat gulp it down with minimum spillage. She had silver, wispy hair, tied back in a loose bun; it reminded Cat of feathers. Her eyes were light brown, almost gold, and her face, while lined with age, was still fairly graceful and elegant.

"Well," The lady managed a picture-perfect smile, though the expression didn't quite meet her eyes. "The redhead is up and walking, she's just a little shaken. The man is also awake but he won't leave room 27, the shorter girl is still unconscious in there, I believe her name was 'Cheryl?'."

Cat mentally ticked off the roll-call of people. So far, Yvonne had survived the crash fairly well, Douglass was keeping Cherry company, who was unconscious. Something about the numbers just didn't stack up, and it took Cat the better part of 20 seconds to work out why.

"Iris?" Cat demanded, a wave of adrenaline passing through her. "The brunette, is she ok?"

Again, the lady smiled, though it seemed more pitiful than reassuring.

"I'm afraid, Iris is still unresponsive. She sustained more serious injuries, since the intrusion was more significant on the passenger side door."

Cat swore under her breath, and beside her, a succession of rapid beeps blared through the quiet hospital room.

"Oh, sweetie." The nurse leaned forwards with little concern, it seemed that this happened fairly often. "Try to keep your heart rate low, stay calm for me, we're doing our best for your friend."

Cat took a series of slow, deep breaths, trying to lower her heart rate more to quieten the annoying beeps than anything.

"Tell me about her." Cat said, after the noise finally faded.

"Contusions to her kidney and liver, blood loss." The nurse listed them on her hands with the same nonchalance as if reciting a shopping list. "But she does show some early signs of cerebral edema, that's quite worrying, if I'm honest with you."

Cat digested this information and noticed a horrid rustling in her midsection; if her stomach didn't feel so hollow, she probably would've emptied it in that moment.

"I know, it's hard to hear." The nurse quickly interjected, noticing Cat's dismayed expression. "But we won't know her full condition until she wakes up."

And then her voice went abruptly quiet, and she averted her gaze.

"I'm sorry. _If_. _If_ she wakes up."

Cat sighed heavily; she felt extremely useless and vulnerable from the hospital bed. She should be awake, fighting _something_ , fighting to save Iris.

"Again, I'm being honest with you -I think you deserve that much-" The nurse sat on the bed beside her and picked up her hands, Cat was glad for the reassurance.

"-Most people wouldn't have survived for this long. Iris is a strong girl, she's fighting very hard. But, sweetie, you need to have realistic expectations. You need to be prepared."

The nurse released her and leaned back on her elbows, regarding Cat's expression cautiously. She seemed to deliberate her next words carefully before pressing on.

"I wanted to ask you," Her tone was lower, as if the topic was taboo. "I noticed some odd readings in your blood tests; chemicals that are fairly rare, not to mention dangerous. Think you can tell me about your medical history?"

"I was self-medicating." Cat replied honestly and simply.

Luckily, the nurse didn't press her further, and she even left with the promise that Cat could get out of bed in a few hours.

* * *

Cat made her way shakily around the hospital corridors, she was wearing a blue hospital-issued t-shirt and matching pants. She passed several doctors who smiled at her reassuringly, even a younger male nurse who flirted with her nervously, until she got bored and excused herself.

Iris had been moved out of the ED several hours before Cat had woken up, and unfortunately her new room was a considerable distance from Caterina's bed.

By the time she had reached the room, she was doubled over and breathing hard against her stomach. The world around her spun like a merry-go-round; _maybe she overestimated her current physical capabilities._

"Hey, you're up."

Cat managed a supportive smile in response, Yvonne really looked like hell. Her red hair had formed a nest-like structure and her skin was pale, sheened with sweat. She had a deep purple bruise on her chin and beside her right eye, not to mention a number of white strips lining a gash on her forehead.

"Yeah." Cat lowered herself into the remaining armchair beside Iris, she tried to keep her tone fairly light. "You too, that was a bad hit. I think we got fairly lucky."

Yvonne didn't respond, she was staring down at Iris with crystal-like tears in her eyes.

" _Not all of us_."

Cat chewed her lip and tried to think of something to say, but for the life of her, nothing came to mind.

Iris was lying on her back, her brown hair neatly pulled over her shoulders in careful curls. Her face was a combination of red and purple cuts, and pale skin. Despite everything, she was still unbelievably beautiful, and judging by the state of her hair, Yvonne probably sat by her bed and cared for her.

"She's probably going to be fine." Cat lied, reaching over for Yvonne's hand. As soon as they made contact, however, Yvonne hastily recoiled as if the touch burned her.

"I-I can't." Yvonne's lower lip was trembling, and she wouldn't meet Cat's eye.

"Th-this is all on you. You got my wife hurt, you-

-you _bitch_."

Cat sat back in bewilderment, she was so stunned she didn't find it in herself to be angry. "What do you mean?"

Yvonne just wiped at her nose and got to her feet. Before Cat could stop her, she had already disappeared around the door.

Cat slowly sat down again, feeling like crap. Her forearm was oddly numb and she felt the familiar sensation of withdrawals; like being caught mid-fall off a chair.

She was halfway standing when something stopped her, a thought, a duty. Iris was unconscious and alone, and recently she had confirmed herself as one of Cat's last living family members.

 _If Yvonne had the courage to leave her dying wife, then Caterina could find the courage to stay._

Cat sunk low into her chair just as the pounding in her head began. But this was a battle she could fight for Iris, it gave her some small pathetic sense of triumph.

"Okay, Iris, it's all gonna be okay. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Douglass was singing softly to himself, an old lullaby his mother use to sing him, it seemed a lifetime ago.

 _"-Nennen korori yo, Okorori yo. Bōya wa yoi ko da-"_

He paused, Cherry was blinking her big brown eyes at him and harbouring a small smile.

"Don't stop Jay, it's beautiful."

Douglass tangled his fingers in hers and smiled warmly down at her. Cherry had a dislocated kneecap and a fairly bruised stomach, but her grin was genuine and content.

"It's _Edo komoriuta_ , the foundation of all Japanese lullabies. It's the only one I bothered to learn."

Cherry sighed happily and began to fiddle with Douglass' hands.

"What's it about."

"Well, the mother is singing to her son. And the boy's nurse-" He scrunched up his face in thought, translation was slightly difficult. "-I guess _babysitter_. She brings him a flute, and a toy drum from her home in the mountains."

"You didn't tell me you were Japanese."

Douglass laughed. "You never asked. And I'm actually half-Japanese."

"Which half?"

"The _not-curly-hair_ half."

Cherry smirked, though the effort caused her stomach to clench painfully and she winced. "It's nothing." She waved her hand, as a frown had begun to condense over Douglass. "Just achy, trust me. But that does remind me…"

She fixed Douglass with a stern expression and pursed her lips.

"Look, I love Cat, I really do. But you can't deny that we've given her everything, we've done a lot for this _League_. Now, I think…I think we should retire. It's absolutely fair, she would want us to be safe."

Douglass sighed deeply and brought his fingers to Cherry's dark hair, he pushed a few stray locks away from her face.

"Tell me, Cherry, why do you think we're all doing this?"

She gave a small, unsure shrug.

"Miss Morgan's a friend," Douglass continued in a low voice. "I've already settled that I'll stand by her, even until death. I think I'm right in saying that she truly is a good person. If I don't have my loyalty, what have I got?"

Cherry looked down, seemed to come to some sort of decision, brought Douglass' hand down to her lips, and pressed a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist.

" _Me_." She replied gently. " _Jay, leave with me, now, before Hell finds us_."

Douglass sat in stunned silence, he had never considered the occurrence of Cherry caring about him, of wanting him.

"I don…"

"Please, for the love of God," Cherry smiled hollowly. "Don't tell me you don't like me like that. Because I've been going through what I want in my head, and it's so much more than that; _want_ is a selfish word, _want_ indicates that I had some sort of choice in this, _in you_. I absolutely did not. Even if I did, I choose you, Jay. And I'll keep choosing you, over and over."

Douglass opened his mouth to respond, but Cherry was finally expressing herself after months of one-liners and flirty banter; it was like a waterfall of emotions and confessions.

"Don't think this makes your whole 'chivalrous' thing less annoying, or your clinginess or shyness. Just know that this means I love all these parts about you; because it's _you_. You're still a pretentious asshole, but you're really sweet and funny, you actually make me feel like I'm worth a damn. I hate saying that I need anyone, because I've spent so much of my life alone and everyone I trust usually lets me down. But I think- I _know_ -that I need you, Jason Douglass. I-"

Douglass had heard enough, and Cherry legitimately sounded like she'd never stop talking and he _really_ wanted her to stop talking. He leaned down, gently placed a hand on her cheek, and kissed her deeply.

Cherry smiled against him and reached up to tangle her hands in his hair. Without breaking the kiss, Douglass slowly wrapped his arms around Cherry's waist, drawing her close, sliding against the smooth mattress. He felt her smaller arms snake around his neck, felt her breathing steadily. After a long moment, Cherry pulled away and turned to the cardiac monitor beside the bed. Without saying a word, she fumbled with the wires until the little screen faded to black.

" _I don't think we'll be needing you_."

She then returned to the bed and wriggled over to one side. The mattress was barely big enough for both of them, but Douglass found a way to lean half of his body against Cherry without disturbing any of the equipment.

"Cherry," Douglass broke off yet another kiss and gently grazed his lips against her forehead. His voice was lower and gruffer than usual, like the rolling of distant thunder.

"I love you…and there is absolutely nothing wrong with this…It's actually fucking amazing. But you're hurt..."

Cherry traced a pattern against the back of his neck, her brown eyes were gazing up at him with so much _love_ , it physically pained him to have to stop.

"Jay, I've never heard you swear before." She smiled flirtatiously. "It's incredibly sexy. But if I'm honest with you, you're right, I'm pretty tired and sore as hell. Just make out with me?"

He laughed lightly. "What are we? 16?"

"Mhm," Cherry murmured against his lips. "Let's forget the world for a second and hardcore make out. You better behave, sugar."

He held up his hands in surrender, and adjusted himself slightly in the bed so that he was able to fit most of his body on the mattress.

"C'mere." Douglass opened his arms, Cherry crawled against his chest and carefully shifted so that her leg was out of harm's way.

"Baby, you alright?"

" _Baby_?" Cherry made a face, and planted a soft kiss against his jawline. " _Really? Baby?_ "

He grinned and breathed gently against the top of her head. "Pumpkin, Boo, Sweetheart, Light of My Life, Honey Popsicle."

She rudely interrupted him with a kiss.

* * *

Cat stood outside the hospital door, watching, listening, crying softly. She couldn't help it, watching two people who were so in love actually act on it, caused something to ached deep within her.

" _Let's forget the world for a second…_ "

Cat sighed and turned from the room, she brought the door with her. Cherry and Douglass didn't even hear the door shut, their whole world was inside that room.

Cat's mind was a whirlwind of confusing thoughts and feelings. She wanted to find and apologise to Yvonne, but another part of her mind was absolutely furious with the way Yvonne acted. Cat couldn't shake Iris' words from her head either.

" _Promise me you'll never be ashamed of who you are, or who you love_."

That was a monumental promise to make, considering what her life had been up until this point. She'd killed, tortured, destroyed so many lives; _How could she not be ashamed?_

If only Iris was around to sing Queen songs with her, to reassure her that everything would be okay, remind her that she was still a person. Because with Iris, unlike with most things, Cat actually cared.

"If she dies," Cat muttered to herself.

" _If she dies, I will destroy this city_."

* * *

By the time Caterina had returned to the apartment, Yvonne was already halfway through dinner. Neither spoke a word as Cat unlocked the door.

Cat grabbed two slices of pizza from the open box and made a beeline for her room.

"Wait."

She paused, turned on her heel, and regarded Yvonne coldly. "What?" She spat. Yvonne looked tired, guilty, and unbelievably stressed. Her lower lip was bleeding from the constant nervous-chewing, her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying.

"I just…Wait, please." Yvonne stood up and took a few careful steps forward, she was still very wary of keeping a substantial distance. With a deep breath, she spoke again.

"We really need to talk, that fight we had- what I said…"

"You were right." Cat interjected quietly and brought her arms around herself. "I should have kept Iris safe, it was my mission and I screwed up."

"No," Yvonne shook her head. "It doesn't matter what happened, whose fault it is. I should have been on your side, like I promised, but I wasn't."

A pile of papers and manilla folders covered the small kitchen bench, Yvonne reached into this and pulled a number of them out to show Cat.

"How far would you go to save Iris?"

The question seemed to surprise Cat, but she answered without hesitation.

"I'd die for her."

She took one of the papers from Yvonne's grasp and scanned it quickly. It was ruled in pale, cyan lines, and covered in a neat scrawl of blue handwriting.

"Cardiac glycosides?" Cat read aloud with a quizzical frown. "What kind of research is this?"

Yvonne was scrambling over the bench to collect her papers, a determined look over her face. '" It's this theory that I've been working on, about using this really powerful toxin to slow the heart long enough for the body to regulate the flow."

Cat tried to make sense of the explanation.

"Theoretically," Yvonne continued quickly. "It may also alter cells and their membrane potential, reprogram the genetic makeup of the body. Increase efficiency of cell function and nerve response. Like sending an electric shock through a machine. The body could, essentially, _fix itself_."

Cat was liking this description less and less, any forms of experimental science never ended particularly well.

"Right," Cat leaned against the wall and folded the paper over in her hands. "So, what exactly does this mean?"

"I have this plant, _oleander,_ it has a large amount of this toxin. And if I extract it and purify it, it could help Iris." Yvonne finished with a shy smile, and maybe she expected praise or congratulations; Cat, however, could only shake her head.

"Let me get this straight," Cat picked her words carefully. "You want to give Iris a dose of this toxin in the vague hopes that some pseudo and very dangerous science will actually succeed?"

Yvonne nodded. Cat sighed.

"You could kill her."

"She's going to die anyway."

Cat furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth a few times in an attempt to say something, Yvonne waved a pale hand meekly to interrupt her.

"The nurses told me everything, Iris is lucky to be alive. But they didn't give her more than a few days. Can you possibly understand what that means to me?"

Cat shook her head; _she really couldn't_.

After a moment of deliberation, Cat released a long, low sigh, and took both of Yvonne's hands in her own.

"Okay." She looked up into Yvonne's turquoise eyes. "I'll do whatever you need me to do. We should call Crane, too, he'll probably be more help than me."

Yvonne wrapped both of her arms around Cat's midsection, and brought her tightly against her into an affectionate hug. "Thank you, Caterina."

Caterina rubbed slow circles against the small of Yvonne's back. "Yvonne, tell me," She couldn't keep the blatant concern from her voice. "Tell me what you'll do when you find who did this."

" _I'll tear them apart_."

Cat's stomach dropped, her heart skipped a beat. She cleared her throat and tried to seem unfazed by Yvonne's response, Cat was just afraid that she was watching her best friend fall into the same life that she had. The same world filled with blind hatred and revenge.

Yvonne had once been as sweet and delicate as a flower, but now, with her wife in danger, she was more like poison ivy.

Cat shook the thought from her head and just tried to focus on Yvonne's comforting arms around her, but one thought clung to her mind like a disease.

 _Poison Ivy_ , the name suited her.


	35. In The Shadows

"Hey, Iris."

Cat sat down slowly with a pained smile, she glanced around the hospital room in vague interest.

"We're working on getting you out of here, just sit tight."

Cat leaned over and replaced the wilted daisies with a new bunch. The gift shop had a very limited variety of flowers, but somehow Cat thought that daisies were pretty much perfect for Iris.

Yvonne hadn't visited today, she hadn't visited yesterday either. In fact, it was going on 3 days since Yvonne had set eyes on her wife.

Cat tried not to be mad at her for it, after all, Yvonne was probably just preoccupied by her experiments. The results she was obtaining were fairly promising, at least, that's what she told Cat whenever Cat asked about it. Crane was strangely happy to assist Yvonne in any way he could, he really did love dangerous experimental science.

A soft knock on the door tore Cat's attention from Iris' face, and she stood up quickly to meet the officer.

"I'm Sergeant Howell," he extended an arm and took Cat's hand in a firm handshake. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Sergeant Howell had soft brown hair, large brown eyes, and dark olive skin. He was considerably tall and well-built, and the way he held himself obviously meant that he was used to intimidation.

"Sure," Cat replied with a sigh.

He nodded and took one of the blue armchairs, gesturing for Cat to take the other.

"Now then," Howell drew a dark notebook from his breast pocket and clicked the end of a pen.

Cat regarded him and tried to mask her distaste, though a small scowl managed to leak through; she really didn't like cops.

"Forgive me, Sergeant." Cat met his gaze steadily. "But a simple car-crash seems a little below your pay grade."

Howell narrowed his eyes and leaned forwards slightly in his chair, Cat inwardly groaned at this blatant display of intimidation. She wasn't sure if it was a 'man' thing or a 'police thing', but she really didn't have the energy for it.

"There was a fatality." Howell was still staring at Cat like she was a murderer. I mean, she was, but assuming it was just rude.

"The man in the other vehicle died upon impact. You're lucky that there were 27 eye witnesses who swore that your car was merely a bystander, a victim of an unprovoked attack."

His frown and bitter tone, however, completely contradicted everything he said.

"Right," Cat nodded with an exasperated expression. "I mean, one of my friends might never wake up, the other is traumatized, I had a mild concussion. But hey, I feel pretty fucking _lucky_."

A muscle in his jaw twinged, like Howell was maintaining some level of restraint.

"Anyway," He struggled to ignore Cat's mocking tone. "We ID'd the attacker and found some heavy criminal records, Noah Clarst, he was involved in a violent criminal circle. Tell me, is there any reason a man named 'Jack Napier' would want to hurt you?"

Cat's scowl fell like her stomach. That was a name she never expected to hear again in such circumstances.

"No," She managed to keep her retort light, despite the cocktail of fear and anger that was churning in her stomach.

"I can't imagine why someone like that would target me."

Her words were truths. Cat knew that Napier was still at large in the criminal community, but he was mostly involved in bank thefts and mobster rallies, nothing that would provoke an attack.

Howell was staring at her again, he had knitted his hands together tightly in his lap, his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Tell me one other thing." He carefully articulated each word with as much toxicity as possible. "Tell me, have you heard about that tragedy in Arkham Asylum?"

Cat couldn't reply, and Howell took her silence as a promising sign. When he continued, a small smug smile was polluting his face.

"You see," He leaned back on the chair and glared down his nose at her. "One of the inmates committed suicide a few weeks ago, terrible affair, it really opened the public's eye to the Asylum's mistreatment."

Howell was full beaming now, and Cat was stock-still in response.

"There wasn't much of an investigation, after all, who cares about one little psychopath?"

He cocked his head ever so slightly, he was clearly enjoying the amount of power he seemed to hold over the situation.

"But, _if_ , God forbid. _If_ this prisoner happened to escape and cause a number of convenient attacks on billionaires and Major Crimes Unit. I daresay they wouldn't hesitate to issue the death penalty." Howell finished with a smirk, a dare for Cat to retort in some way, to fight for herself.

She stood up, smiled, crossed her arms over her chest. This casual response faltered his smile for a moment.

"Let me see if I have this right," Cat pointed out slowly, like a teacher scolding a student. "You are insinuating that I am a serial killer who has escaped from multiple prison's, infamous for killing cops, girlfriend of the Joker, torturer, thief, presumed dead. You are accusing me of being this _person_ , and your brilliant plan is to threaten me?"

Cat was harbouring her own smile, it was elevating to see that Howell seemed to sink nervously in his chair.

"This _person_ wouldn't hesitate to kill you and everyone you love in a heartbeat. And if an investigation was commenced, this person would sleep like a fucking kitten after killing the family and friends of every thoughtless cop who took part."

Howell slowly and tensely got to his feet. His gaze never left Cat's as he tested her, wary of her every move.

" _Uh_."

Cat took a steady step forward, as expected, Howard mirrored her action in reverse.

"So, let me ask you." Cat whispered in a low voice.

" _Do you think I am this person?_ "

He cleared his throat loudly, shook his head, and took a few unsteady paces towards the door.

"No…no I think there was some mistake. She….she did die and I… found evidence to prove it."

Cat nodded and let her face fall, taking a more serious and reasonable approach.

"Leave, now, forget you saw me, you and your family will be fine. I swear. It's okay to be selfish sometimes, pick your battles Sergeant."

He seemed to draw reassurance from her words and even managed a slight smile, albeit a confused and anxious smile.

Howell then ducked out of the room faster than Cat could return to her seat.

* * *

Cat was back at the apartment that evening, and when she entered the small hallway she barely even recognised the place. Strange glass and metal lab equipment lined every wall and several strange whirring noises echoed from machinery that Cat couldn't name.

"Huh," Cat ducked around a large, circular device that seemed to have a spinning interior. "Going well in here?"

Yvonne and Crane were both leaning over the kitchen bench, a microscope and petri dish before them.

"Hm." Yvonne grunted in response and gazed into the eyepiece of the microscope again. She sighed through her nose, drew a pen from her shirt pocket, and jotted a series of notes down in her small notebook.

"Results are…promising." Crane replied over his shoulder, like Yvonne, he too was wearing a white lab coat and gloves. "Initial tests show significant increase in cell function. In response to the toxin, the cells have evolved a defence mechanism. There _are_ some strange developments, though."

Cat walked over to them and tried to comprehend the dark green substance that was pooling in the glass petri dish.

"Like what?"

Crane picked up the petri dish and mimed to the liquid with his index finger. "These blood cells have…well. It's hard to scientifically identify it. They seem to have developed a cell wall, like a plant sample."

Cat stared at him and blinked once, twice, three times before Crane sighed and expanded on his explanation.

"The cell wall provides a protection, of sorts, a filter. But most eukaryotes - _people_ \- we can't physically have them because they'd make our cells far too rigid. These cells, however, have developed flexible protective layers. And, theoretically, this would make these cells stronger, more efficient; like supercells."

Cat nodded slowly and looked down at the green liquid.

"It's green." She said stupidly.

"Another interesting observation." Crane pointed at her mockingly. "The cells also have chloroplasts-"

He faded off and took in Cat's blank expression, he winced, as if her stupidity physically pained him.

"-Meaning that these cells might have the ability to photosynthesize. Like, converting light energy into glucose. This whole experiment has opened up the possibility for a super-human, of sorts, fast healing, able to obtain energy from the sun. I can't even begin to imagine what we could discover with more tests."

At this, Yvonne looked over at them with her lips set in a firm line.

"No," She said stiffly. "We need to move on to trials, _now_ , Iris doesn't have long left."

Crane regarded her sympathetically and rolled off his gloves.

"I'm sorry, Yvonne." He spoke gently. "But it's far too dangerous to commence human trials without further research. We have barely scratched the surface of this toxin."

Yvonne turned back to the table with tears in her eyes. She remained silent, however, and it seemed that, for now at least, she accepted the situation as it was.

Cat watched the two of them work in silence for the next few moments. Every now and again one of them would jot down a note or equation with a triumphant hum.

Yvonne barely lifted her gaze from the work before her, and Cat noticed how her pale complexion and dark rimmed eyes hadn't improved since the crash. She was clearly tired and hurting, Cat didn't enjoy watching Yvonne go through this.

After about 10 minutes, Yvonne stood up suddenly and mentioned something about 'Indian food', before she had grabbed her purse and left.

"So-"

Cat glanced over at Crane; he had his eyeglasses between his forefingers and was massaging the bridge of his nose.

"-I need to thank you, for helping Yvonne like this. Even if it doesn't work out, fighting for someone is an excellent form of therapy."

Crane waved a hand in nonchalance, but Cat could tell that he was utterly drained.

"You think I'm a bad person, don't you?"

The question was jarring, and Cat took a moment to process what Crane had said so abruptly.

"I…I keep a very strict image of myself," Crane returned his glasses over his eyes. "I'm sure you know all about the power of fear and intimidation."

Cat shrugged slightly, she did know how much power could be granted when you had a reputation.

"It doesn't mean I don't…" Crane struggled with the words, and he ran a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "These people, Yvonne, Iris, Douglass, Cherry, they're…a good team."

Cat smiled warmly and nodded in understanding, it was refreshing to see Crane act in a way that wasn't cold and calculated.

"But this isn't the image I want-" Crane seemed almost…disappointed, begrudging at the very least.

"-After Iris is back on her feet, I'm going to respectfully request resignation."

Cat tried not to find sense in his words, but she felt sorry for Crane above everything.

"I get it." Cat replied softly. "I never imagined we would all..well…excuse the 'Hallmark card', but I never imagined we would become such a family.

Crane laughed humorously, before sighing and fixing Cat with desperate glance.

"You'll look after them."

It wasn't a question, but Cat found herself nodding in response anyway.

"I had plans," Crane was laughing again. "Blackmail, intimidation, control, fear. But actually _liking_ you, that was…unexpected. You'll keep this between us, won't you?"

Cat nodded surely, before Crane returned to his notebook with a frown and a low sigh.

"Whatever might happen, however you might fall out with them," Crane glanced up again with an odd desperation in his eyes, like he knew something she didn't. "Promise me that you'll look past it. You've got a good team there."

"Uh, sure. It kinda seems like you're trying to warn me, though, do you…do you know something?"

He didn't respond, and Cat again had the sneaking suspicion that her team was keeping something from her. First, Yvonne had seemed desperate to tell her something back at the gas station, and before that, she'd walked in on her and Douglass having a very heated debate about…something. Whatever it was, it sent an odd trickle of dread down Cat's spine.

"I'm gonna go back to the hospital." Cat decided after a moment. "I think I'll sleep over again, I hate leaving Iris alone."

She was hallway out the door when she heard Crane's voice float from the kitchen; soft, and barely audible.

"Watch your back."

* * *

The air was painfully cold around her, and the night seemed to enter and exit her lungs in burning waves. She hugged her tan coat more tightly around her midsection, she could see her breath escaping her nose like little puffs of cloud.

The street was fairly deserted, considering it was a Saturday evening, Gotham still seemed to have an unspoken curfew thanks to the rising number of attacks.

Cat paused under a single, flickering street lamp. It was the only source of light up or down the dark street. She couldn't shake the way her hair stood on end or the uncomfortable churning in her stomach; it was the feeling of being watched.

She turned on her heels to observe her surroundings; The night remained dark around her, dark, cold, and empty. Cat laughed at her own paranoia and tried to steady her thumping heart with a few reassuring thoughts _, she was probably ten times more dangerous than anything that could crawl out from the shadows_.

Cat was about to take another steady step forward, before a sound ran through the night and hit her like a painful slap to the face. It was a sound made so softly and casually, that to anyone else it would seem not to have deserved the amount of terror that Cat felt.

She felt the blood drain from her face, felt her limbs turn into useless bags of water. Suddenly, everything around her was drenched in a sickening shade of blood.

Behind her right shoulder, barely 5 feet from her ears, a soft voice had muttered a single, horrible word.

 _"Sweetheart."_


	36. The Madness Returns

**Hi all!**

 **We reached 10,000 views already, that's so insane. Thank you so so much for reading and supporting this book, I know it's not perfect but I'm really proud of what I've achieved for my first ever story!**

 **Well done to anyone who caught on to that big character reveal, more on that soon ;)**

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 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Three years

Three years since the pain, three years since she wanted to die.

Three years of therapy and justification, forgiveness, anger, frustration. Three years of rebuilding herself. Three years of staring at blood-stained walls and deliberating what she would do if she was ever met with this situation; if she ever saw _him_ again.

She thought she could handle it, but she was wrong, so wrong.

"Sweetheart."

There it was again, like a razorblade cutting deep into her chest so that all her confidence and rationality oozed out, one solitary drop at a time.

"…Sweetheart?"

Cat turned her head away, her throat and chest felt like she'd just eaten a plate of shattered glass.

 _Fuck._

 _Fuck._

Adrenaline wanted her to run, to run away from the danger. She could feel her heart pumping so rapidly that she almost expected it to rip a hole through her deep red blouse.

 _Fuck. It's not real. It can't be real. Why is he alive? Why is he here?_

 _Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?_

"Swee…Cat?"

She shook her head slightly, barely a fraction of movement.

Joker remained at a reasonable distance; either from respect or caution Cat really didn't know... _or care_.

"Caterina, talk to me, please?"

His voice was verging on pleading, and she noticed an odd waver in the enunciation of her name.

All these facts merely ricocheted off the wall she was putting up in her mind. She had gone into mental-lockdown, and as a result she was suddenly feeling excruciatingly numb.

"You're….You're dead." Cat breathed and gradually brought her hands to her lips. "You're dead. They told me…You're dead."

She was caught in a loop of these thoughts, but repeating the phrase couldn't make it anymore true.

"No, I'm not," He stepped forward cautiously but kept his arms firmly attached to his sides. "Cat, tell me what to do, tell me what you want me to do."

She stopped, tried to remember how to breathe, and pulled her handgun out of her coat pocket in one fluid movement.

"Hands behind your back."

"Cat…"

"I'M NOT FUCKING KIDDING!" Cat screamed, she tried to ignore the lump that was painfully forming in her throat. She paused, caught herself, and counted to ten with a number of steady breaths.

When Cat had substantial control of her emotions, she continued in a monotonous voice.

"Hands behind your back, before I show you your insides."

Joker opened his mouth, paused, deliberated, and finally decided to remain silent.

"Okay, Cat, whatever…whatever you want."

He slowly folded his arms behind his back and waited for further instruction. Cat was lost for words, she was so unbelievably shaken that she didn't have full power over her limbs, she felt like she was watching herself from afar.

"Nothing's gonna happen that you don't want, Cat, let's just talk."

Cat pushed the barrel of the gun deep into the dip of Joker's neck, her finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger.

It was tempting, it was easy. Cat could erase all of this with a little pressure, a little noise, a little blood.

 _Three years._

 _Three years to build a conscience, a pathetic morale code._

"Let's go." Cat firmly grabbed Joker's shoulder, which was clad in a flattering dark suit. She pretended that she didn't notice how he'd lost the intimidating face paint, the long messy hair, how he seemed to be in better shape with a flattering pepper of stubble.

Three years, it wasn't fair that he looked younger and better than he ever had.

Cat took a deliberate, shaky breath, and began to take long strides in the direction of the apartment.

"Okay, this is how it is…" Joker muttered to himself, stumbling as he tried to keep up with her relentless pace.

Cat clenched her jaw together tightly. He sounded disappointed, heartbroken even; but he was _The Joker_ , he didn't have a fucking heart.

Cat closed the distance between the apartment and the streetlamp in record time, she didn't give either of them the chance to speak.

It was seriously fucked up; if Cat was so enraged, why did her gaze keep falling to his lips?

* * *

Cat walked in without uttering a word. She hauled Joker through the narrow door and slammed it shut behind them.

Crane and Yvonne wordlessly appeared at the end of the hall, like they could sense that something ground-breaking had occurred.

Crane muttered a quiet 'oh' as the two of them passed, and Yvonne quickly averted her gaze.

"Rope, chain, duct tape. What do we have?" Cat turned on her heel and stared past Joker, she met Crane's eye almost accusingly.

"Uh, right, okay," Crane stumbled forwards and nervously pushed his glasses up his nose, something about Cat's lack of emotion and barely contained restraint was incredibly frightening. "I think I have some zip ties lying around."

He dashed out of the room without a moment's hesitation, leaving Cat, Yvonne, and Joker alone in silence.

"Cat, I-"

"How long?" Cat cut Yvonne off abruptly, she was not in the mood for shallow sympathies and sugar-coated white lies.

Yvonne swallowed and was obviously trying to form a sentence out of broken truths

 _'A few months.'_

 _'I kept it from you.'_

 _'I'm sorry.'_

But none of these mattered anymore, the damage was done.

Crane re-entered a few moments later with a number of black zip ties. With the gun still pointed at his neck, Joker was lead down the length of the apartment until he and Cat reached the small storage room. Yvonne kept most of her research papers and old furniture in this old, wooden-floored room. Cat slid most of these aside and pulled out a metal chair. A single, old fashioned lightbulb hung from the middle of the ceiling, its metal chain catching the light.

"Sit." She waved the gun towards the chair, around them, clouds of dust particles flittered in and out of the column of light.

Joker sat almost immediately, his obedience and submission very uncharacteristic.

There was a truth in the air that neither of them voiced, a buzzing in the back of their minds;

 _If he really wanted to escape, he would've done so._

Cat tried to keep her mind silent as she worked on the zip ties. One around Joker's hands that he clasped together behind the chair, one around his ankles. But on Joker, these ties were as effective as dental floss.

"If this will make you feel better." He commented lightly, as Cat gave a secure tug around his ankles to test the ties' strength.

"Yes, actually." She snapped in response. "I'd feel even better about putting a bullet through your face."

He gazed up at her with an odd expression, not exactly bemusement or pity; but a sort of guilt.

Cat scoffed quietly and got to her feet, she wiped her hands down her jeans in an attempt to get rid of the violent shaking. Without another word, Cat marched out of the room and pulled the heavy door behind her until it clicked into place.

She paused for a moment, her back pressed against the door, and took a number of deep breaths.

 _'She could handle this, she was strong enough.'_

Cat kicked off from the door and made her way to the living room. The world around her seemed to be caught in motion blur, she couldn't feel the contact of her feet on the ground and she was only barely aware of her own heartbeat ringing in her ears.

Yvonne appeared at her side, biting her swollen and bleeding lip; the stress was still affecting her.

'Listen, Cat," Yvonne leaned against the wall, displaying some level of distance and uncertainly. "I'm not trying to apologize, to make this up to you. God knows that won't help. I want to tell you, to ask you; I want Joker dead."

Cat didn't blink.

"I thought you might."

Yvonne nodded curtly, a small muscle was twinging beside her ear like she was putting everything she had into not freaking out.

"He…" She swallowed and attempted to steady her shaky voice. "…He tried to kill us, he hurt Iris. You can be mad with me, I don't care."

Cat winced at her unkind words.

"I'm not angry, not with you." Cat replied honestly. "I know why you lied. I just wish, I think I wish he _was_ dead."

It was hard to admit, but again it was true. If Joker died in another part of the city, his body cast down into a gutter; It would be a relief. But he didn't, he was alive, and no matter how she felt, Cat couldn't hurt him so directly.

"I don't think Joker attacked us." Cat chose her words tactfully, very wary of Yvonne's expression.

"Something someone said to me, a Sergeant, I think Jack Napier is somehow behind this."

Yvonne's upper lip twitched into a snarl.

"That gangster? Really? He's working for Joker. Don't you see, Cat? They're all manipulating you."

Cat slammed a hand into the wall in frustration, the sudden crack caused Yvonne to jolt into a standing position.

"You think I'm not fucking sick of everyone controlling me? Everyone trying to get close to me with some sick, cruel agenda?

Cat hesitated and exhaled aggressively through her nose. She ran a hand through her hair in frustration.

"I just want someone to care about me." She muttered bitterly. "But that's too much, isn't it? It's too much to think that I could mean anything to anyone. That I could actually have that connection…"

Cat faded off until her voice was barely a whisper, she shook her head once and wiped at non-existent tears.

"Whatever," Cat crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Well, I'm in control this time. Joker stays, unharmed, locked up, until we can work out who's trying to kill us. If anyone goes behind me, anyone,"

Cat hardened her gaze and lowered her voice, Yvonne took a subconscious step back.

"I will not hesitate to use violence. I am at that point, I don't give anymore fucks. Do not test me."

Yvonne flinched, of equal portions anger and fear.

"Cat," Yvonne's voice was soft and sad. "I know…a lot of…"

She cleared her throat in uneasiness, but found the courage to press on despite Cat's scowl of distaste.

"Something I said..about always being on your side. I meant it, and I just what to know where we are."

Yvonne gestured between them with a shaky, pale hand. Cat exhaled sharply through her nose.

"I can't be fucked lying anymore." Cat kept her voice frighteningly light. "What's the point? The truth is much simpler than that; I don't trust you anymore."

Yvonne was lost for words, but she accepted Cat's statement with a bowed head; it was fairly given.

"We're still on the same side," Cat reassured with a half-hearted attempt. "We're working together, and if it comes down to it; I'll risk my life for you. Just don't expect any form of friendship."

Cat didn't wait for a reply, she no longer had the patience to indulge people in acts of common courtesy. She shook her head again in irritated disbelief and made her way down the hall.

* * *

"Crane."

In a moment, Crane had slipped around the corner wearing an expression of concern.

"Yeah?"

Cat clasped her shaking hands together, she chewed on her bottom lip nervously until she tasted the metallic aftertaste of blood.

"I'm going to see if I can find Napier. Can you stay here, keep an eye on them?"

He gave a single, solitary nod, before pausing with a frown.

"Wait, which one?" He asked.

Cat sighed.

" _Both_."

Crane nodded again, and was about to turn away when he hesitated. He seemed to be heavily deliberating something, and after a moment he came to some sort of uneasy conclusion.

"Are you…" He paused, sighed, and tried again.

"Are you okay?"

Cat shrugged stiffly, after a long moment of uncomfortable silence she managed to answer.

"I think so." She trembled slightly. "But don't…don't keep asking me that. It'll get harder and harder to lie."

Crane looked down, and Cat felt a wave of pity for him; he was so willing to be called upon, so ready to follow her orders.

He must've noticed her sympathetic expression, because he managed a thin smile and pulled Cat into an unexpected yet reassuring hug.

"You'll be fine. If you made me care about these unintelligible petty criminals, you can do anything."

Cat bit her tongue sharply as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

 _Oh, how she wanted to trust him._

Cat gave a final nod, a final sigh, before she hugged her arms to her chest and retreated into the night.

Crane watched her leave with a miserable expression, he felt oddly helpless for the first time in his life. And has the door swung closed, he wondered rather bitterly if he would ever see Caterina again.

"Please," He murmured to no one. "Caterina, don't do something you'll regret."

The only reply he received was the blaring horn of a passing car.

* * *

Cat pushed her way past sweaty bodies and benches of various brightly coloured alcohol. Around her, the room flashed with red and yellow strobe lighting to indistinguishable generic pop music. Luckily, she wasn't attracting any attention thanks to the raised platform. The speaker's announced a name, a girl in a scandalous outfit waltzed on stage, and the crowd erupted into various roars and wolf-whistles as she began to dance.

Cat wrinkled her nose in distaste as the newest dancer, a pretty blonde named 'Angel', accepted a handful of cash in exchange for a rather distasteful action. It wasn't the girl who Cat disliked -she was just an obscure performer- it was the vulgar, middle-aged men who indulged her.

On the other side of the club, Cat caught the eye of a tall, broad shouldered, Latino man, complete with a black goatee and neck tattoos.

She tried her best not to laugh as she made her way over; after all, it wasn't his fault that she found gangsters so _comical_.

"Morgan." He had to raise his gruff voice above the music. "What the hell 'you doing here?"

He crossed his tree-trunk arms over his chest and loomed over her, though something about his wide eyes surrendered a sense of fear and intimidation.

"Napier's not gonna' like this, get out."

Cat squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes in the most menacing way she could; it was difficult, considering her body was basically the size of one of his arms.

"I want to talk to Napier." She lifted her chin slightly. "You know who I am, you know what I'll do if I'm disrespected."

The man swallowed, glanced quickly over his shoulder, and lowered his deep voice.

"Look, Morgan." He uttered, slowly uncrossing his arms. "No disrespect here, you got a rep. We know who you are and what you do. But Napier 'aint…he 'aint some uptown gangster anymore, you'll know what I mean."

Cat frowned; she knew that Joker had intended to pass his title on to Napier, but Joker was still running the city. Napier was given a very specific and very _controlled_ amount of influence, he was allowed to continue in Gotham, because he had a purpose.

"Napier runs this place?" Cat asked bitterly, glancing around at the women, alcohol, and eager guests.

"Nah," The man waved a ring-laden hand. "Let's just say he has his thumb on the man who does. Morgan, leave, now, I don't wanna' hurt you."

Cat opened her mouth to respond, but her disobedience was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious voice behind her.

"Well, well, Caterina Morgan, in the _flesh_!"

The way he said 'flesh' made Cat shudder inwardly, he carried the word between his teeth with a disturbing relish.

"Napier." Cat attempted to keep her tone light as she turned to face him. "Your boy here said you didn't want to talk."

She could barely make out his features in the inconsistent light flashing, but something about his face was just _wrong;_ he had strange markings on his face that were either tattoos or scars.

"No no no." Napier grinned with a singsong voice, he flashed the familiar silver-capped teeth and wolf-like smile. "I always have time for _old friends_."

Again, the way he said _old friends_ , like it had a much darker and more menacing subtext.

Cat followed Napier away from the crowds and loud music, until they came to a curtained off section of the club. It had pleasant wine-red couches, a private, illuminated bar, and a number of buff, shady looking men in tattoos and thick gold chains.

 _It was a little gangster club house._

All the men nodded at Napier respectfully as the two of them entered, and Cat sat down on one of the plush couches feeling slightly outnumbered.

Napier sat down on an adjacent couch and turned to her with a smile. Cat took advantage of the steady, yellow lighting, and took in Napier's appearance.

 _He was barely recognisable._

His dark hair had been dyed a bright, lime green, though he still maintained a modern 'shaved sides' look. His face was unusually pale, and it took Cat a moment to realise that his hands and neck were of a similar pasty shade; like that was his actual _skin._ Napier still had a number of dark neck tattoos that plunged into his deep purple dress-shirt, but an additional number of designs marked his forehead and cheeks, she could just make out the word 'damaged' written in cursive on his forehead.

His wide silver eyes also seemed to be lined in dark makeup, then again, the 'sunken' look might be due to his unusual skin tone. It was only when Cat noticed his mouth did she fully recognise what she was looking at; it was painted in blood-red, a guise she knew all too well.

"What the fuck are you trying to pull?" Cat snarled at him and nodded at his appearance. He wasn't Joker, he'd never be Joker.

"Like it?" Napier extended his arms and splayed his hands. "It was a gift, a gift from your boyfriend."

"Joker did this?" Cat asked, she felt a sudden chill in the air around her that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Well," Napier twirled a purple, gold-topped cane in his hand that Cat only just realised he was holding. "Him, and a vat of acid."

It all came flooding back, the night that Cat infiltrated the Prewitt building.

 _Joker had ordered his men to take someone to a chemical plant._

"Sorry." Cat mumbled, she really didn't know what else to say. It was obvious that the acid had burned him, stained his skin, left subtle scars around his eyes and mouth.

" _Are you_?"

Napier lifted his left hand and held it, palm-side-out against his chin A crude grinning mouth had been inked over his pale skin, and it fit over his own face almost too well; like a puzzle piece.

Cat decided it would be safer to change topics.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him accusingly, he merely raised one side of his mouth in a half-smile.

"Kill you? No, no, no." Napier laughed, as if she'd just told him a joke. "I wasn't after you, I was after a little red-head who worked at Arkham."

"Yvonne?" Cat asked; _this hadn't been the answer she was expecting._

"Mhm, she…she worked with a patient for a while -a _friend_ of mine- and let's just say."

Napier leaned forwards until his elbows rested on his knees.

"Let's just say I want revenge."

It was an odd truth, and one that Cat wasn't sure she believed.

"Revenge?" Cat repeated indignantly. "That's not your style."

He leaned back against the couch and shrugged.

"You'd be surprised."

The men around them had gone strangely quiet, they were spectating the conversation with an air of anticipation, like there was a truth that Napier was about to disclose.

However, he remained silent with a subtle smile, and Cat was left with a huge feeling of unease over her shoulders.

"Is that it?" Cat asked, she noticed the weight of her handgun in her pocket and drew a level of comfort from it.

"Well, no, I actually have a bit of a proposition for you."

Napier lifted his chin at the bartender, who arrived at his elbow in a second with two clear glasses. He offered one to Cat with a polite smile, she decided it was best to accept any forms of friendship he displayed.

The whiskey was sour, and burned her throat as she swallowed. Cat had never been one for alcohol, she just couldn't appreciate the painful sensations and bitter aftertaste as anything more than a technique for getting drunk.

"As you know, I'm building a…well, a team." Napier continued in a casual tone, swirling the amber-coloured liquid in his glass.

"Right now, it's all muscles and weapons." He waved a hand in distaste. "I need more. I need serial killers, I need psychopaths, I need experience and elegance."

Napier nodded at Cat proudly, as if he had just described her in a flattering way. Cat just frowned quizzically and tried to make sense of what he was saying.

"You're trying to… _recruit_ me?" She asked, her voice rising in disbelief. This _certainly_ hadn't gone the way she expected.

Napier clapped his hands once, creating a loud and jarring noise that echoed around them. When he continued, he did so in a fast and irritated tone, like her negative response angered him.

"I'm offering an opportunity to get in on this travelling circus while it's still in production. I'm offering money and powerful friends. You'd be absolutely insane to decline."

Cat didn't hesitate to shake her head.

"Thanks, but no, I have a team."

Napier stared at her in disbelief. After a moment, he shook his head and grinned.

"Those…those _freaks."_ He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing down the green strands. "You call those manipulative animals your friends?"

Cat didn't have an answer, at least, not one that she wanted to admit.

"Don't you see?" Napier asked in a high-pitched voice, smiling like a madman. "They get into your head. They drill through your skull while your being _treated_. They erase your mind and fill it with lies, fill it with fake promises and assurance."

He was at such a level of volume now that he was practically shouting. Cat noted that this outburst of anger probably had a deeper meaning behind it.

"They worm their way in through cracks in your broken mind, and they expect you to _care_?

Napier laughed loudly and hollowly, his gaze was distant and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

Cat waited until his outburst had subsided, before leaning forwards and addressing him with a suppressed glare.

"I don't know what Joker did to you," She began in a low voice. "But I do know what you did to my team, one might never wake up. So, this," she gestured between them. "This isn't a friendly rendezvous, this isn't old friends reuniting. This is me, confronting you, about a war _you_ started."

Cat paused to assess her options. One option was the handgun in her pocket, two shots through his head, and the eliminating of a very real threat. A second option was much more dangerous, and came into her head more like an afterthought than anything.

 _God how she wanted to shoot him._

Cat sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose.

"You did save my life." She began begrudgingly. "You got me out of that Asylum, so I figure I owe you something."

Napier remained stock-still, watching her like a tiger hunting its prey.

"I'm calling a truce, at least for the time being. I'm not gonna shoot you, I'm not gonna hunt you down with my very dangerous colleagues."

Cat waited for Napier to respond in anger, he remained uncharacteristically quiet.

"I'm leaving now, and hopefully, I never see you again."

Cat didn't press her luck, she stood up while Napier was still silent and made her way out of the curtained-room.

Napier watched her leave with a bemused expression. Despite what It may have looked like, the conversation had gone exactly the way he wanted it to.

"Mister J?"

Sanchez walked up to the couch and glanced down at him in concern.

"Morgan's leaving, want me to shoot her?"

Napier shook his head slowly, a small smile gradually spreading over his face.

"Leave her-" He leisurely smoothed his hair back against his neck, and looked up at Sanchez with knowing expression.

"-She's not the one we're after."


	37. A Broken League

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy and favourite/follow/review, it really helps me out :)**

 **XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

The room was quiet, much too quiet.

Crane stood behind the dark-caramel coloured door and weighed his current options.

Option 1: Walk the other way, let the door remain closed, and hide behind a delusion of safety.

Option 2 (and his least favourite): Get the information he needed at the possible price of his own life. Unfortunately, he was fairly fond of his life.

He continued to create excuses in his own mind as the minutes ticked by, but he knew that there was far too much at stake now; there was only so long someone could be tied down by their own fears.

The door creaked open slowly, and Crane stared into the darkness, his stomach somersaulted with apprehension.

"Hello." His tone was hilariously light, and yet no laughter ensued.

The only discernible thing in that cold, dark, square room, was a pair of eyes reflecting the hall light with tiny pinpricks. Crane straightened and casually slipped his hands into his pockets; maybe if he emitted an air of confidence, it would slow his racing heart.

"Crane."

His name came out like a predatory growl, and Crane found himself clearing his throat in unease.

"Joker." He replied with a small nod, neither of them looked away.

The air around them was absolutely dripping with tension, oozing with anticipation and aggression. It was almost animalistic, the way the two men were staring each other down, waiting for each other to crack.

"I seem to recall," Crane entered the room at a leisurely pace. "Us making certain arrangements."

There was a scoff, or a bark of hollow laughter, and Joker grinned up at him.

"Is that so?" He mused. "And is that why you're so afraid?"

Crane clenched his jaw involuntarily, everything within him was begging him to run.

 _How could someone tied to a chair evoke so much fear in him?_

"We had a deal." Crane growled with much less restraint, he was now using the tactic of masking his fear with anger.

"No, you threatened me, remember? Brave move, I'll give you that, you've got balls."

Joker hummed, almost absentmindedly, and gave a half-hearted tug on his arm restraints.

"Or, _maybe_ , maybe you're an idiot who took a very miscalculated risk. Either way, we both knew the truth-" He leaned forwards with a wolfish grin, his fringe of green curls falling in front of his eyes.

"-We both know you were _all bark and no bite_."

Joker sank back into the chair with a satisfied smirk, he raised his eyebrows as if daring Crane to deny it, to fight back. "You've gone soft."

Crane frowned in response, finally he had mustered up the courage to argue.

"You're one to talk" Crane nodded angrily at Joker, referring to his short hair, lack of makeup, and strong form; he was barely even _Joker_.

Joker cocked his head slightly, more curious than condescending.

"You really think all of this is me going soft?" He asked incredulously, Crane merely glowered at him in response.

"I'm not trying to be Joker anymore, that's no longer my job."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Crane asked bitterly. Joker didn't have a purpose anymore, so why was he acting like he still had a part to play.

"Funny story actually." Joker grinned again, though the expression didn't quite meet his eyes. After Crane made no objections, Joker took his silence as willingness to hear the 'funny story'.

"Well, you know me, I've always got the best pieces on the board. I've always got a killer punchline. That was Napier, he was my…my _golden girl_. My last laugh, a new, younger, crazier threat for Gotham, isn't that the funniest thing you've ever heard?"

Crane didn't so much as smile, and Joker shrugged with an expression of 'ah well, everyone's a critic.'

"It's a bit like a monarchy," Joker continued. "One king replaces another. One Joker replaces another and Gotham welcomes him with open arms, after all, we're the only thing making life _interesting,_ making life _bearable._ In the zoo, you don't just keep the tigers in a metal box with periodic feedings, you need to make the environment exciting and stimulating, you need to make it _hunt._ Otherwise, that tiger goes insane and destroys itself."

Joker paused, chewing his lip in thought.

"-Let's say, we're Gotham's obstacles. Without us, it would burn to the ground. Batman, Joker, Scarecrow, Penguin, Harley Quinn, Morgan; _All of us,_ we're Gotham's cure, Gotham's saving grace. You, Jonathan, you of all people should know the healing power of fear."

Crane found himself nodding in agreement, after all, everything Joker was saying made perfect sense to him.

"But you still haven't answered my question."

Joker shook his head with a laugh, his eyes strangely wide.

"Yeah, you're right, I haven't. After Napier was…well... _built_. I had a single, easy plan. I was in police custody, exactly where I wanted to be, I had the public's eye, I was the lead, I had my men smuggle in a fuck-ton of explosives; real overkill."

Crane tried to piece together the information he now knew, though, if it was possible, he was even more confused than he had been before this cryptic speech.

"How would blowing up half the FBI in DC help you? I thought you wanted Gotham."

"Mhm," Joker nodded in agreement. "Gotham is much more entertaining. They have this way of….running towards danger, it's hilarious. But that's not the point, I wasn't just going to blow up the FBI, I was gonna have a front-row seat."

The reality hit Crane like a tonne of bricks. He couldn't keep his jaw from falling open slightly.

"You-?"

"Yup." Joker replied, popping the 'p' between his lips. " _Kaboom_!"

"Jesus Christ." Crane muttered under his breath. "I thought you were saner than that."

Joker glared at him accusingly. "Come now, don't tell me you've never thought about it, never considered it. I mean, it's the ultimate show, right? The big event, broadcasted on every station for the next 50 years, that's more publicity than I could achieve by killing a few people. So, _Joker_ becomes the topic of conversation, and, simultaneously, a Joker steps into the light to pick up the city's grieving heart; win-win."

His smile was a little too wide, a little too compensating.

"And yet, unfortunately, you're still here." Crane folded his arms against his chest.

The smile slowly faded from Joker's face, and was soon replaced by a darker, more menacing expression. Crane struggled to stabilise his breathing as sudden fear constricted his chest like a snake; Joker was acting uncharacteristically, and Crane couldn't predict his next actions. He had so many questions, so many unclear calculations.

The big one; why didn't Joker kill himself?

Joker leaned back against the metal chair and exhaled through his nose, his eyes fell shut and he made a low hum of a sigh. He remained silent, and for the next few minutes Crane stood in awkward indecision; to pursue an answer or to leave while he still could.

Eventually, self-preservation won out, and Crane left with the little information he was able to obtain.

Joker watched him leave through slits of his closed eyes, a cocktail of emotions raging within him. He was angry, afraid, relieved, and confused, all at once.

Why _was_ he still here?

The truth was that he had been closer to death than anyone knew; he had been wearing the vest, he had a thumb on the trigger. And yet, when the time came, he couldn't activate the bomb, he physically couldn't flip the switch.

Not fear, no, he didn't care about his own life; after all, what was a little more blood on his hands?

It was something else, something deeper and more painful, like a dull ache in his chest, or a drumming in his ears.

Joker would prefer to call it fear, at least that was simple and marginally understandable.

 _It wasn't, and whatever it was, he was sure he hadn't seen the last of it._

* * *

His feet landed heavily on the ground, sending gravel and dirt flying like shrapnel. He kicked off and met the night at a run, head first, arms and legs pumping with adrenaline.

Before him, he could just make out the outline of a man taking an impressive leap between two buildings. Soon, they would run out of roof.

Bruce readied his arms at his sides as he replicated the man's jump, with the added addition of his specialised 'gliders' that gave him more air time.

The man threw his head over his shoulder and risked a glance at the Batman, unfortunately, this caused him to slow down and Bruce was able to gain a few more steps on him.

He swerved around a vent opening, kicking dust behind him in the hopes that it would inhibit Batman's vision.

Bruce reached for his utility belt and unfastened the grapple gun. He held it up to his eye and aimed at the man, who was still at least 20 feet away.

It was a move he had learnt from Caterina.

The head of the grapple went zipping through the air, before impaling itself painfully in the man's left leg. He screamed in agony and fell to the gravel in a tremendous crash.

"No! NO!"

The man was screaming and squirming, trying to pry the grapple from his leg as Batman closed the distance between them. He grabbed the man's throat and hoisted him into the air, a thin line of wire still extending from his belt to the man's knee.

"Stop struggling." Bruce growled in his synthetic deep voice. He reached low and detached the head of the grapple from the spike, another trick he had developed after Caterina, and easily pulled the device from the man's wriggling leg.

"Y-YOU MONSTER! LET ME GO!"

He tried and failed to kick away the Batman with his good leg, Bruce just inwardly sighed and wrapped the man's hands firmly behind his back.

"Answer my questions, and I won't have to hurt you."

He took the man's silence as compliancy, and brought him unsteadily and roughly to his feet. As the man applied pressure to his injured leg, he screamed in anguish, Bruce pressed on with little compassion.

"I know Caterina's alive, I know you use to work for her. Tell me what you know."

"I-I don't know shit! You think they tell someone like m-me these things?"

He was white as a sheet and violently shaking, a few stray tears were running down his cheeks; Batman's victims were often reduced to such a state.

"Y-you want Napier, he's the one who's in charge now. If anyone knows about criminals in Gotham, it'd be him."

Bruce narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"Napier's a poster boy, where's Joker?"

The man let out a loud, unexpected bark of laughter, before the sound reverberated into a groan.

"You all need to stop underestimating Napier, that'll be the death of you." The man spat at him bitterly, and Bruce frowned as he tried to discern meaning from this statement.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm saying," The man leaned in close, the streaks on his face reflecting the overhead moonlight. "I'm saying that Napier's been through Hell, and he came out smiling. Watch your back, because he'll cut you open and spill your insides like a fucking dissection project. You though Joker was bad? He wasn't nearly as crazy or as livid as Napier is. I-I would know-"

He looked away, as if reliving a painful memory. When he continued, his voice was low and vibrating with fear.

"-I…I 'aint ever seen someone's eyeballs outside their head before. Napier laughed at it like it was nothing…all that blood…I-I could see the veins…"

He shook his head in an attempt to rid the memory; he was crying again.

Bruce struggled with this sudden display of fear; he had been following Napier's actions quite closely over the past few months, but he had heard nothing of such violence and bloodlust.

Napier was just a gangster, a glorified, _violent_ gangster. And yet, this man was talking about him like he was the new Joker, or worse.

"He knows where Morgan is?"

The man shook his head timidly.

"N-no, no one knows where she is. We've all seen her, heard of her jobs in the MCU and Saussure's finances. She's…got her own operation now, but it's so far in the shadows that not even guys like me know."

Bruce sighed in frustration, but he got the impression that this man was telling the truth. Finding Caterina would be harder than he anticipated, and the hope that she would sought him out herself was dwindling into the impossible.

Bruce quickly tied up the man with a length of strengthened metallic wire, and started off in no particular direction.

For the first time in a while, he no longer had a lead.

* * *

Cat was on her way home from her visit with Napier, her stomach churned with unexplained unease. He had just let her go, when he could easily have killed her. Why?

She didn't understand it, and in all of this she had forgotten to spend time with Iris, her dying friend, the guilt was unimaginable.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Cat clicked it on.

8 missed calls.

"Oh fuck." Cat muttered allowed and scrolled through the history. Strange; they were all from Crane.

She quickly dialled his number and held the phone to her ear, chewing her lip in anxiety. As the phone began to ring she leaned herself against the nearest building; an unlit deli with faded grey bricks.

 _"Caterina?"_ Crane's voice floated through the line, he was loud and shaking with fear.

"Crane, what's going on?"

 _"It's…It's Yvonne!"_ He answered breathlessly. _"She…the formula…I wasn't watching and-"_

"Fuck." Cat swore, she glanced around quickly, as if hoping to spot Yvonne on the street.

 _"I told her again we couldn't do human trials, but something about Joker arriving changed her. She was angry…and she was gone…she took the most refined formula we had. Fuck, what do we do?"_

Cat brought the phone down to her chest and dropped her head against the bricks; it was all falling to shit, everything she had built, everything she had treasured, she was watching it fade like water stains on a hot day.

"I-I don't know…I think we need to go after her. We have to stop her from doing anything with that formula."

 _"Obviously,"_ Crane shouted into her ear, and Cat could picture him pacing the room in distress. _"The side effects haven't even been estimated yet, chances are it will kill her."_

"Okay, stay there," Cat tried to steady her voice. "Contact Douglass and Cherry, get them on the street. I'll go to the hospital in case Yvonne is headed there. Try to make a new formula, if all goes well, we'll find Yvonne and cure Iris safely."

 _"Could this get any worse?"_ Crane whined before hanging up the phone. Unfortunately, it seemed like his words had been an invitation for the absolute worst thing to happen.

Cat's phone rang again, the caller was the hospital.

She brought the phone to her ear with a shaky hand and felt her heart rise up to her throat.

"Miss Montgomery?" The nurse's crisp tone addressed her pseudonym. "It's Iris Huntley, I'm afraid I need to ask you in as her second contact, we couldn't reach her wife."

Cat took a long, shuddery breath. "What's wrong?"

The nurse took a moment before answering, and this silence was more terrifying than anything Cat could imagine.

"W-we're doing all we can, she's going into cardiac arrest, we can stabilise her for a few minutes but we think you should be here."

Cat hung up and looked around the street wildly; she needed a car, and she needed one fast.

She chose the nearest vehicle, shot the window, hot wired the engine, and revved off in the direction of the hospital.

* * *

"Let me through, MOVE."

Cat pushed past a large family and a man in a wheelchair. She had made it to the hospital in just under 2 minutes, a feat made much easier when one ignored the rules of the road.

A large, bustling group of 10-or-so doctors and nurses were surrounding Iris's blue hospital bed. Cat had to stand on her toes just to see her face above the crowd.

"All clear."

"Clear."

And an elderly man dropped the defibrillator paddles over Iris' exposed chest, with a hum of electricity and a beep of a machine, Iris arched off the bed in a quick, jerky movement

Still, the monitor to her right blared, and a single, flat line ran across the screen.

"Still no pulse."

The doctors adjusted the machine, a number of tubes connected to Iris, and repositioned themselves for another attempt.

"Okay, again, 360."

"Charging." A female doctor glanced over, her face coated in a sheen of sweat.

"All clear."

"Clear."

A second jolt lurched Iris off the bed, Cat watched her fall back to the pillow.

"Come on." Cat muttered, chewing the inside of her lip. "Come on, come on. Don't do this."

"Still no pulse." The words rang out, and Cat winced.

"Baseline, 36."

"Ready."

"Charged."

"Clear."

"Standing by."

"Still nothing, no pulse, let's go again."

Cat watched miserably as again the doctors shocked Iris, and again she fell back, lifeless. She wanted to call Yvonne, to get her here, but she didn't want to tear her eyes away for a single second.

Yvonne was too fucking selfish, she was so obsessed in this stupid cure that she was missing her wife. Iris needed her now more than ever.

"No change, starting CPR."

The doctors pumped Iris' chest in careful rhythms, counting aloud. Cat was chewing on her thumb and trying to keep from sobbing out loud.

"Still nothing, again."

She chanced it. She brought her phone to her ear and waited for Yvonne's number to ring out.

Cat was automatically taken to her voice mail.

 _"It's Yvonne Huntley, leave a message."_

"Iris is dying." Cat whimpered through the phone. "Her heart has stopped, she's not breathing; I think this calls for a fucking visit, don't you? Get your head out of your ass, come and see your wife."

"Nothing, again."

Cat grimaced and tried to blink away the hot tears that were flooding her vision.

"You heartless bitch," Cat breathed into the phone, she was clutching it unreasonably tightly to her ear. "You don't deserve her! I hope, for your sake, that you're dead when I find you-"

She was forced to hang up, as the room around her had suddenly gone very quiet.

The doctors were muttering to each other in low voices, exchanging information and observations. The single female doctor approached Cat stiffly and pulled her surgical mask from her face.

"I-I'm so sorry." She had tears running down her cheeks, tears for someone she didn't even know.

Cat couldn't respond, she was glancing between passing faces and trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't understand." She said softly, her chest heaving in long, low breaths.

"We did everything we could-"

The doctor continued to talk in her steady, calm voice, but all Cat could hear was the ringing in her own ears. People around her were talking, trying to get her attention, grabbing her arm gently, asking her questions.

It was useless, she couldn't understand.

Cat walked up to the bed and sat. She blinked, she breathed, she could taste her own mouth; yet everything felt fake.

Iris was the only thing in focus, her face was pale, her mouth and lips closed tight. Her brown hair hung in thin, un-brushed tendrils beside her face.

Cat couldn't help herself, she reached over and gave Iris' shoulder a small shake.

"Come on…don't-"

Her voice faltered. She squeezed her eyes tightly.

"Don't, please don't, come back."

Cat willed with everything she had, but when she opened her eyes reality remained the same. Iris was cold, Iris had her eyes closed, Iris' chest was unimaginably still.

Cat had seen corpses before, probably an unhealthy number of corpses; but why did she feel like she was seeing _death_ for the first time?

 _"Sometimes love hits us unwillingly, despite our best efforts."_

Iris was still in her head, laughing, smiling, singing, promising her a family and a future.

 _"Godmother, Aunty Cat. You would be the coolest Aunty, teaching the kid all the important life lessons."_

They wanted to adopt, they wanted to start a family together.

Iris was a beautiful, 30-year-old florist, with a taste for classic rock, and impossible faith in everyone.

 _"Promise me you'll never be ashamed of who you are, or who you love."_

Cat dropped her head low into Iris' shoulder, her entire body shuddering as she choked on the pain.

She sobbed.

She screamed.

She begged.

But Iris Huntley was lost forever.


	38. The Hollow Building

**Hi guys! I'm back with another chapter. I know it's been a bit of a break, and honestly I've been working really hard to get this done, considering things that have happened and all that.** **But thank you so much if you're still reading and have waited (patiently) for this chapter. I am absolutely going to finish this book, even if I struggle to post chapters at times.**

 **So follow, favourite, review, it is amazing motivation to actually hear that people are enjoying this story, and all reviews make me smile.**

 **XOXOXO -Impossible Dreamer**

* * *

Cat arrived home with a throat that felt like it was filled with sand; coarse and raw. She had cried herself dry, and was currently riding the 'numbness' that came with a sudden grief.

She couldn't quite understand why Iris' death at hit her so hard, and so painfully. She barely knew the woman, most of the things she knew she had heard from Yvonne's stories, and yet…

…and yet it felt very real, and absolutely agonising.

It took Cat the better part of her 10-minute walk home to make sense of all that had happened. In short, she summarised it in a single, heavy sentence.

 _Some people touch us deeper than others._

She tried to push everything to the back of her mind, and deal with the present threats.

That, she could do. One more step forwards, one more heaving breath.

A few restless thoughts tugged on her mind, like the nagging feeling that all of this was playing to someone's sick game. Someone had caused these dreadful things to happen, and currently the most pressing event was Yvonne's unexpected disappearance with Crane's formula.

Cat mulled this over as numbly as possible, she restricted her thoughts to careful and unemotional analyses:

-Yvonne could not have travelled very far in the short time

-The formula would most likely kill her

-Caterina could not find her alone.

The final thought was more real and more painful to admit than the rest, she was so use to facing her troubles and relying on herself, and honestly her own pride was an obstacle she had to overcome eventually.

She would get help, but at what cost would it come?

* * *

Crane didn't even look up from his bench when Caterina entered. He was wearing a stained white lab coat, and an expression of absolute concentration as he loomed over a number of unlabelled beakers and samples.

"No word," He muttered between his teeth. "Cherry and Douglass are on fifty-third."

Cat took a deep, much needed breath, and fixed her gaze assuredly on Crane's figure.

"Johnathan," She addressed his first name and Crane, sensing the weight to her tone, turned to her in both surprise and concern. Cat faltered slightly under his blue, piercing gaze, but with a steady sigh she managed to regain some composure. "I need to ask you something."

"Go." He replied instantly.

"Do you trust me?"

He frowned in confusion but nevertheless gave a curt, subtle nod.

"Of course."

Cat chewed her bottom lip and wrung her hands nervously. "Good." She answered in a shaky voice. "Because you know we can't do this alone. I need you to trust me now, I need you to believe me when I tell you I'm strong enough."

It took Crane a few moments before understanding dawned and his frown vanished.

"Oh," He replied very quietly, and pressed his hands so forcefully against the bench that they paled. "I see."

Crane looked away, his dark hair falling into his eyes, before he reached for a nearby pair of heavy-duty scissors.

"I trust you." He answered assuredly, and Cat received the scissors with a slight tremor in her wrist.

She turned the plastic handles over in her hands, wishing there was another solution to the problem, another answer that didn't involve such a dangerous act.

 _Cat was about to let the lion out of its cage._

* * *

Caterina turned the handle and gave the door a single, solid push. It opened slowly, teasingly slowly, like it anticipated her dread.

She pulled on the string, and the lone bulb flickered into life, flooding the small room in a wave of harsh yellows and browns.

Cat stood, waiting for the condescending tone, the dripping toxicity, the razor-sharp laughter. However, it was quiet, and only a low, soft voice eventually broke the silence.

"Hello Caterina."

Joker was looking up at her with a solemn, respectful expression, like a child who had acted wrongly and awaited punishment. Was he…actually respecting her? Or in the very least, being civil?

 _It must be some sort of trick._

"Hello." She mocked his tone and folded her arms over her chest. "Are we equal now? One criminal to another?"

Joker made no comment, he merely gazed up at her as she cut the distance between them and knelt before the chair. Cat was now eye level with him, but she still kept a safe 3 feet distance.

"I'm not your little freakshow anymore, I've broken out."

Joker did smile, but it was soft and sad, like the melody of an old music box.

"I never had you contained," He said quietly. "You've always been stronger than me, you've always had the power to tear me apart. I just convinced you that there were steel bars around your world, and you believed me."

Cat swallowed at the painful lump in her throat, and she couldn't discern whether anger or despair had put it there.

"You're a liar." Cat managed in an unsteady voice. "You're a lying son of a bitch. What makes you think I'll believe you now?"

Joker shrugged and tilted his head to push back a number of green hairs that had fallen over his eye. "Because for the first time, I don't particularly want you to."

Cat struggled with this concept, and decided instead to get to her feet and brandish the pair of scissors.

"You're going to help me." Cat stated plainly, far too plainly. Joker merely raised his eyebrows in interest, an expression of 'of course I am, lead the way'.

She cut through the plastic zip ties easily. But she pulled him to his feet with great difficulty; he was now taller than her, his arms were free, he could attack.

Cat took a subconscious step backwards, retreating into the safety of the open doorway. She felt the cool plaster of the wall against her back, through her deep red shirt, and found a sense of grounding and comfort.

 _She was in control._

"It wasn't you." Cat said stiffly, not meeting Joker's gaze. "It wasn't you who attacked Iris."

He shook his head swiftly, but respectfully remained in the centre of the room.

"No, I would never do anything to really hurt you."

Cat pictured the car crash, and the twisted remains of their vehicle; smoking and shattered. It could have killed them, it was meant to kill them.

"You're right," She answered, almost absentmindedly, as a new thought was mulled over. "Yvonne couldn't have been the only target, we all would've died."

Napier had said something about extracting revenge from Yvonne, revenge for what she did to a patient at Arkham. But if he really did want to keep on good terms with Cat, even offer alliance, why would he organize such a lethal method?

"I think Napier wanted us dead." Cat said, her words dripping with disdain. It wasn't a particularly wild concept, after all, Napier was monumentally fucked up in the head. The idea that he wanted Cat dead, or the League destroyed, was easily believed.

Cat scrunched up her face and massaged the bridge of her nose; why couldn't friend and foe make themselves more recognisable, like wearing colour-coordinated armbands.

"Will you help me?" She glanced up with an exasperated sigh, and found rather frighteningly that Joker had made his way across the room. He nodded, and rolled his shoulders back to relieve the tension of lax muscles.

"Anything."

* * *

They broke out into the early morning together, the air melting through their clothing and brushing against their skin like paint on a canvas. Cat couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline surge through her veins as she stared out at Gotham, Joker by her side and a pursuit underway.

'Just like old times' she wanted to say, bitterly. But she was different now; she was stronger, fitter, surer. Cat had been forced to build herself up from nothing, and it had taken three years.

"Where to?" Joker glanced across at her, and Cat pondered the question thoroughly.

"I think-" She began, slowly. "I think Yvonne would go somewhere with medical supplies. She's testing a formula, she'd need a sample collector, blood extraction equipment. Somewhere she could get into easily, somewhere that wouldn't arouse suspicion."

As Cat had thought aloud, she had been slowly putting together a sold, sure answer.

"The Asylum." She said excitedly, her eyes wide with comprehension. "There's heaps of empty medical facilities, and the guards there aren't particularly bright."

Joker smiled and rolled his wrists lavishly, gesturing to the street.

"After you."

* * *

Cat played with the handgun, trying not to notice how comfortable it felt in her grasp.

Joker had stopped by at a local gas station, at which the owner, upon recognising them, had supplied them both graciously with two Berettas' and 9mm silencers.

"You don't mind?" Joker tucked the gun in his internal coat pocket and regarded Cat, almost compassionately. "I know you've gone all righteous, tryna get into heaven now."

The words were sarcastic, but the message was sincere.

Cat laughed lightly, an action that was fairly foreign on her.

"I'm only righteous against killing innocents. No one in that building is innocent."

They were both standing outside the Asylum, scouting the entrance and taking notes of the security levels.

"Get down." Cat warned suddenly, pulling Joker to the ground by his forearm. They ducked behind a car's front wheel as a truck of medical supplies lazily rolled passed. Joker watched the gate open intently, and without breaking eye contact, he popped a gummi bear in his mouth.

Cat turned to him with wide eyes.

"Seriously?"

He raised his eyebrows incredulously, chowing down on another handful of brightly coloured gummies.

"What?"

Cat rolled her eyes and turned back to the Asylum just as the twisted metal gates clicked shut. She inclined her head slightly to the left, indicating the entrance.

"Okay, I have a plan." Cat said distractedly, counting the security guards she could see.

"Is it a good one?"

Cat hesitated.

"I have a plan." She said finally, and motioned at the security guards. "These guards, let's just say they've got a healthy appetite."

Joker snatched the brightly coloured bag of candies close to his chest, his eyes widening in concern.

"Not my gummies." He glared at her accusingly. Cat sighed in exasperation.

"No one wants your gummies, I used 'appetite' as a euphemism. Hand me your coat."

Joker seemed relieved to keep his sweets, if a little confused by the odd request. Nevertheless, he shrugged of his black coat and offered it to Cat.

"Right," she glanced down at her outfit; a wine-coloured shirt, a dark belt, and black running leggings. "Turn around for a minute."

He raised his eyebrows incredulously, also glancing down at her outfit as if to discern some meaning from her requests.

When she was sure his back was well and truly turned, Cat pulled her shirt over her head and wriggled her way out of her leggings. She shivered slightly as the chilly air met her bare skin and wrapped Joker's coat around her shoulders. It fell just below her knee, and after she tied the belt around her waist, it fitted her body fairly well.

"Alright, you can turn around now."

Joker did so, and he gazed in interest at her bare collarbone and knees.

"Right," He said slowly. "And this would be?"

"Um." Cat suddenly felt rather silly and child-like, she self-consciously wrapped her arms around her midsection. "I'm a…I'm a service. Just say it's a birthday thing, it should get me past the gates at least. When I'm inside, I'll dispatch of the gate security and clear the way for you."

She paused and glanced away in embarrassment. Three years ago, she would have done this no problem, in fact she often did; she usually played the distraction while Joker and his men snuck around back and killed everyone off. Now, somehow, it was different. Cat was shyer about herself, like she'd gained a certain amount of self-respect, and now such actions felt vulgar.

 _It was her own body, and no one else's. It was not something to be used, and admired. It let her run, it let her think and feel, it brought pain, it heaved, it moved, muscles and bones rippling beneath her skin. It didn't make her more desirable, it didn't distract, it didn't measure her value or her worth. It_ was _her._

"I'll go in," Cat decided in a more assured voice. "I'll go in, and then I'll shoot everyone."

That final thought made her feel much better.

* * *

The gate operator watched Cat approach in vague interest, he seemed to be new, that would explain why he didn't recognise her.

 _'Hey, I know you. You're that serial killer who committed suicide a couple months ago! Woah, I should shoot you right now, I definitely shouldn't let you walk up to me.'_

"Hi sweetie." Cat waved at the guard through his little chain-fence box. "I got a call that it's someone's birthday today, can I get an escort inside?"

From the other side of the gate, Cat could see the smallest smile of bemusement fall on the young guard's face.

"Sure, honey, can I see some identification?"

His eyes roamed her figure shamelessly.

She sighed, but forced a sickly-sweet smile over her face and brought her hands down to her waist. Before she could undo the belt loops, there was an oddly supressed _pop_ behind her right ear, almost like an inverse click. The guard's eyes rolled backwards, and his whole body followed, leaving nothing but a large blood stain on the glass of his control-box.

Cat turned in surprise, and found that Joker had his gun aimed steadily at the guard, a look of determination over his face.

"Bastard." He growled in a low voice.

Cat remained frozen in place, she still had her hands awkwardly at her waist and her lips barely parted.

"Uh." Her cheeks flushed deeply, and she cleared her throat. "That…that works too. You know, I can still fight, I don't need protecting."

Joker stiffened and brought the gun down quickly, as if hoping to pretend he hadn't used it.

"Yeah…did you see that…that look in his eyes?" He gestured wildly to the direction of his own eyes. "Wild, rabid."

Cat supressed a smile, she tried not to find Joker's jealously flattering, unfortunately, she failed.

"Here." He roughly threw a handful of her clothing at her. "Get dressed, you look ridiculous."

Cat blushed, this time in anger, and took her clothes close to her chest in annoyance.

"Fine." She replied curtly. "Keep watch for a second."

Cat climbed through the front opening in the controller-box and fiddled with a series of important looking buttons and switches. Eventually, the gate groaned open with a buzz of electricity, and Cat pulled her clothes on while Joker scouted the entrance.

"All clear."

Cat met Joker at the Asylum's front doors, they faced each other with shoulder's pressed against the glass, guns held aloft against their chest.

"Ready?" Cat asked with a thin smile. He winked in reply.

They turned in unison and kicked open the glass doors, immediately opening fire wherever they saw movement. Cat shot an elderly janitor through the eye, a fat blonde receptionist through the chest, a number of burly, mousey-haired security guards through their shiny badges and blue uniforms.

The guards poured into the white lobby like rats, scurrying around, wildly shooting, shouting. When one fell after a spurt of blood, a second guard always replaced it with barely a moment spared.

Cat fell into a comfortable rhythm. One shot over the shoulder, two to the right, kick behind, three in front. She was halfway between another kick, when she felt her shirt pocket vibrate slightly.

Cat brought the guard crashing to the floor, and dropped her foot carelessly over his throat.

"Hang on." She glanced down at the blue-faced man. "I gotta take this."

Cat pressed the phone to her ears and sent Joker an apologetic expression.

"Don't worry." He muttered, smearing some blood off his chin and shooting another guard through the jaw.

"Hello?" Cat stuck a finger in her ear in an attempt to block out the noise, what she did hear was a small, raspy voice, barely above a whisper.

" _Caterina?"_

It was Crane, whispering in a quavering voice.

 _"Caterina? You can hear me?"_

"Yeah," Cat replied, and she glanced down in vague interest as the guard beneath her gurgled into unconsciousness. "Yeah, I can hear you. What is it?"

" _Yvonne_ ," Crane's whisper floated in and out of audible range. _"She's…She's here, with me, at the apartment."_

Cat stiffened in interest, and she backed away from the conflict to better hear him.

 _"She broke down the front door, I'd never heard anything…it was like a groaning, a wooden sound, a rustling, and then the whole thing came away in a shower of plaster. I didn't see anything, I hid in the storage room, I'm still here."_

Cat tried to quieten her breathing, she didn't want to miss a single aspect of Crane's recount.

 _"She's in the kitchen. I…I think she's destroying my formulas. But, God, I don't know. She must have some sort of weapon, the whole apartment keeps shuddering and groaning, bits of wall and ceiling keep giving way."_

"Stay there." Cat urged, wringing her hands nervously. "Stay there, we're coming to you."

 _"No,"_ Crane continued, his voice not rising in volume. _"I've got a large dose of fear toxin with me, I can hold her. She's not a danger."_

Cat immediately shouted in opposition.

"No, don't, stay there, stay hidden!"

But it was no use, Crane had hung up, and Cat was left with a feeling of heavy dread in her gut.

"Oh, shit." Cat looked up, Joker was watching her with a quizzical frown, he had littered the floor with corpses and various body parts, but otherwise, the lobby remained empty.

"What is it?" He noticed her worried expression and closed the distance between them. "Have we found her?"

Cat opened her mouth to reply, but her throat was too numb to formulate any form of an intelligible response.

She merely nodded, swallowing a lump of fear.

"I see." Joker mirrored her small nod, and wiped a clump of…something reddish from his coat. He gestured for her to lead on, and she did so despite her quivering legs and loud thoughts.

"We…we need Cherry and Douglass." Cat managed after a moment. "I won't make the mistake of underestimating the situation."

She bit her lips nervously, and recognised the iron aftertaste of blood, but Cat couldn't tell whether it was hers or someone else's.

* * *

The apartment was barely recognisable.

Masses of brick and plaster littered the sidewalk, and huge, hollow chunks had been ripped from the building's exterior. White particles hung, suspended in the air, dusting everything in white, like icing sugar. It looked like the remains of a half-eaten gingerbread house.

Cat stared without seeing, trying to make sense of any aspect of it.

Not only was the building a crumbling mess of what it once was, but it had strange ropes and pipes running through the front doors and bursting out into the street. At least, Cat thought they were pipes, until she approached them and recognised a very different texture indeed.

"Vines?"

Douglass knelt down at the apartment entrance and ran a hand along one of the strange objects. It was as thick as a drain pipe, and curled in and out of the plaster in a single, fluid motion. But there was no mistaking the green, leafy appearance.

"What the fuck is going on?" Cherry asked in a low voice. She glanced around at the group, but neither Douglass, Cat, nor Joker had any reasonable explanations.

A sudden groaning sound made the entire company jump. Cat watched as the vine gave a great shudder, as if shaking itself awake, and then proceeded to slither further into the bricks like a terrible serpent.

"Holy shit." Cat breathed, watching a number of vines dotted with emerald leaves, push themselves into the apartments, tearing new holes through the plaster.

Joker took a long stride forward, so that he was beside Cat's elbow, and he too regarded the situation.

"Is it…" He faltered, running a shaky hand through his fringe. "Is it alive?"

He was right, the entire structure seemed to be groaning and shuddering, heaving and beating, like a living organism.

"It must be Yvonne."

Three pairs of eyes turned on Cat in disbelief. Douglass tried his best to muster a patient smile as if Cat's suggestion had not been complete and utter horse crap.

"How?" Cherry demanded curtly, crossing her arms over her chest. "How the fuck could this be Yvonne?"

"I…I don't know," Cat started. "But Crane called, said she was inside. Now, I'm not saying it makes a lick of sense, I'm just working through what we know."

"If this is her," Douglass gazed up the tall building, his face oddly pale. "If this is Yvonne, how the hell are we meant to fight her?"

Cat could do nothing but shrug, pathetically.

"Let's hit her really hard in the head. We'll see where it goes from there."

Cat didn't need to unlock the front doors, they merely shattered at her touch. She swung open the remaining metal frame and beckoned for the nervous company to follow her inside. They did so, weapons raised, breaths held, each trying to make as little noise as possible.

Inside the apartment lobby, more twisting vines fractured the walls and ceiling, hanging long, low tendrils of leaves and stems. Cat stepped over another thick vine that was lying dormant over the cracked flooring, and she walked head first into a web of spidery ferns.

"Eugh." Cat squirmed out of the leaves with a shudder; she didn't like how everything around her seemed to be alive and watching them.

"…Cat."

Cat turned to Joker's low-voiced acknowledgement, and found that he was staring at the reception desk with an uneasy expression.

The wooden desk had been split into two splintered halves, and down the centre ran another deep green vine, thicker than any they had seen. It curved and twisted its way from the front doors, down the lobby, and through the wall directly behind the reception. Cat cautiously approached it, and as she did so, she noticed that something dark and glistening was sprouting through a section of the vine.

No, not sprouting; _impaled_.

"Oh, god." Douglass murmured under his breath, he joined Cat and Joker near the desk and Cat thought she noticed a green hue around his face.

The receptionist had been run completely through by the vine, torn shreds of skin and clothing hung from him like wet paper. The carpet around the dead man was soaked through with blood, and even the vine seemed to be absorbing the thick liquid like fertilizer, as it appeared greener in colour than the rest.

"Jesus Christ," Cat took a hesitant step forwards, and placed a shaking hand on the receptionist's frayed shoulders. "What could do something like this? How…how do vines act this way?"

Joker managed a single-shouldered shrug, but his jaw was clenched in an unusual way. He was afraid, he was terrified, he felt unmatched.

"Okay," Cat decided after a moment. "We…w-we need to find Crane, he was hiding, maybe he still is. Let's go up to our place, quietly."

She added the final word nervously, and silently wished above anything that there was another way to go about this.

Cherry glanced over at Douglass, her eyes glistening only for a moment.

"We'll go first." She answered quietly.

Cat knew that she and Douglass wanted a moment alone, a moment to collect their thoughts and reassure each other.

 _'A moment to say goodbye',_ A darker part of Cat's mind whispered. ' _Because we're all going to die'._

She nodded, and Cherry and Douglass started up the stairs cautiously, hands linked, whispering encouragement and empty promises to each other, pretending they could keep each other safe.

When she could no longer see Cherry's stout, black-clad form, or Douglass' muscular build and blue sweater, Cat exhaled sharply, and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

"So," She turned to Joker with a bitter smile. "This might just be it."

He inclined his head in agreement.

"I guess so."

Cat kicked the scruff of the carpet, her heart jittering with nerves.

 _Why was this suddenly awkward?_

"I-I…I want to thank you, for cooperating."

He laughed hollowly, running his tongue swiftly over his bottom lip.

"Sweetheart," Joker replied with a disbelieving shake of his head. "Call it what it is, I'm _helping_ you."

She opened her mouth to respond, and yet no argument came out. At this moment, argument seemed petty. These were the people she was going to die besides, she could at least be civil.

"Yeah," Cat laughed lightly. "I guess so."

And she was lost for words again, her gaze held in his dark eyes. Cat fell back again into months of memories.

 _There was no denying, she had never felt freer than she had by Joker's side. Everything he had been saying had been absolute truths, everything about her being strong, about her cage being imaginary._

Cat decided then and there that she was no longer angry with him, because now, none of it mattered. When the whole world was falling to shit around you, allies became dangerously rare.

Joker was gazing at her, not resorting to his usual witty remark or twisted scowl; he was being patient, he was waiting for something.

Cat shook her head, forcing down some very dangerous thoughts.

 _She was not about to do a full circle, not with him._

"Ok, let's catch up with the others." Cat brushed some loose blonde hair behind her ear and turned on her heel, she hoped rather than believed that all the awkwardness of the moment had been in her own head. She honestly wasn't sure if she was acting out of fear or courage.

She didn't get very far up the dark stairway, though, as her hand was suddenly caught in a gentle, yet firm hold, and her entire body spun around 180 degrees.

"What the-"Cat spluttered, but she wasn't able to finish her disjointed cry of alarm.

Their hands were entertained, and he had a soft hold on her hip.

"Sorry," Joker murmured, a sweet smile forming over his lips. "I would've hated myself if I didn't try."

Cat had barely registered the situation, before she felt something brush gently across her lips.

It lasted for a second, maybe longer, Cat honestly couldn't say. It was patient, sweet, it was a message, a goodbye. He pulled away with a bittersweet expression, and let his hands fall limply to his sides.

"Lead the way." Joker muttered with a vague gesture towards the stairwell. He had guessed what Cat had been thinking all along, that this was closer to _the end_ than any of them would've liked. It moved her, slightly, that in these final moments Joker decided to show her such genuine affection.

 _'Well fuck it',_ Cat thought angrily. ' _Here I am trying to be the restraint, angry one of this weird relationship. And he gets to pull shit like that?'_

She was practically fuming at this, at how selfless she was trying to be. Without a word, Cat took Joker's hand in a death grip and glared daggers at him, daring him to oppose.

 _Fine, we'll play it this way._

"Uh, what are you doing?" He asked as they climbed up the stairs, hands interlocked forcefully, he seemed slightly afraid.

"I'm being sweet." Cat spat over her shoulder. "What? You think this isn't sweet?"

His eyes widened with fear but he didn't say anything, he merely cleared his throat loudly and managed a small smile.

"Yeah Cat," Joker replied quietly, just as they stepped off the stairwell into the corridor of Yvonne's apartment. He paused for a moment, and took her hand more securely in his.

"Cat, you're being really sweet."


	39. And Around We Go

**Hi all! Guess who's writing again? I honestly gave up on this story, but i was still getting reviews and got inspired to do some more. I really hope you like this one, it went through sooooo much editing since i wanted my return chapter to be bomb.**

 **Please let me know what you think, reviews are my motivation :):)**

 **As always, I don't own any Batman/Begins or Dark Knight characters, but the rest are all mine.**

 **QUICK POLL-please take the time to answer this, it will really help me finish the story:**

 **1) Who is YOUR favourite character so far?**

 **This will affect the ending, and specifically what happens to certain characters (no spoilers tho ;) )**

 **Thank you so much! I'll try to update again soon.**

 **Love to all! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer**

* * *

Cherry and Douglass were waiting for them at the end of the short corridor. Cherry had her head turned into Douglass' chest and seemed to be murmuring against the soft fabric. Cat's breath hitched in her throat when she noticed a post-crying blush over Cherry's nose.

' _Is this it, then?_ ' Cat thought miserably, ' _Am I leading everyone to their death_?'

She sighed and glanced across at the wall almost absentmindedly, when she noticed a beautiful silver engraved frame for a painting. She walked over to it, and plucked it from the wall easily. Joker glanced over at her quizzically, as she dug out the ornate silver hook used to hang the frame, but didn't question her actions.

"Douglass, come here for a moment."

She twirled the ring between her fingers, pressing the open end together to form a perfect loop. It was simple, a little plain perhaps, but it would do the trick.

Douglass lowered his head to press a kiss to Cherry's lips, before making his way over to Cat. "What is it? Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I mean- "Cat almost laughed, "-not really. Four years ago, that was the last time I was alright. But, I want you and Cherry out."

He blinked at her, uncomprehendingly.

"I don't understand."

She forced a watery smile and bit down on her bottom lip. "After this, I want you and Cherry out."

Across the room, Joker had joined Cherry against the wall. The two seemed to be getting along, at least Cherry was smiling again as Joker retold a joke he knew about pencils.

Douglass squared his shoulders quickly and crossed his arms, in such a way that made his biceps look huge. "We've been through this, Cat, it should be our choice-"

"Oh god, just _shut up_ ," Cat pleaded desperately, running a hand through her hair, "I'm so fucking sick of people lying and pretending. You're my friends, and I've already lost enough of those!"

With that, she held up the silver band between her thumb and forefinger and brandished it to Douglass.

"You're gonna have such a good life," Cat's voice faltered slightly, she shook her head and cleared her throat. "Don't let that go, not for me, not for anyone. I hope….I hope you never think of me again."

Douglass stared at the ring, it reflected brightly off his deep brown eyes. He seemed entirely lost for words, and his jaw was quivering as if he was restraining some sort of outburst.

 _"Please?"_ Cat whispered and fought a wave of tears from spilling from her eyes. "I think it's about _fucking_ time."

Douglass stopped, his face relaxed, and then he sighed and took the ring into the palm of his hand. He shook it slightly, testing its weight. "You're right," He formed a twisted smile, "You're so goddamn right. I'm sorry, Cat, but I'd like to formerly resign."

"I accept your resignation." Cat smiled meekly. Douglass nodded again to reassure himself. Then, he puffed out his chest, smoothed down his curls, and confidently took Cherry down the end of the hall by her forearm. She seemed pleasantly confused by his confidence, and giggled softly.

"I assume you had something to do with that." Joker said quietly and took Cat's hand again, he was nodding over at the couple who were murmuring intently to each other and exchanging kisses.

"Believe it or not," Cat wiped at her eyes, which were shamelessly leaking her mascara down her cheeks, "I used to believe in love too. I mean, everyone else around me gets to play pretend, right?"

"I guess." Joker clicked his tongue in thought. He glanced down at the frame which was leaning against the bottom of the wall. He sent Cat a sideways look of questioning.

 _The frame had two hooks._

"Don't even think about it." Cat laughed humourlessly. Then she wearily leaned her head against the wall, the smile and façade fading. "You think that's what I really want? All that time with you, three years in the Asylum, you think that kind of life is still in the picture anymore?"

"I thought that's what you wanted." Joker admitted and chewed determinedly on his bottom lip. "God knows I'd be a nightmare of a husband. But, I mean, waking up to you is something that never grows old." He glanced away, clearly embarrassed by the amount of…legitimate emotion he was showing: to Joker, at least, _feeling_ was the real 'f' word.

"You're kind of…beautiful in the morning," he breathed softly, "I don't know if I ever told you…I mean, you drool, but _beautifully_ , y'know?"

He leaned over and brushed the tip of his thumb under Cat's lip, as if picturing it. She couldn't help herself- she smiled, then she laughed, then the laughter shook her shoulders and chest so violently that she was entirely doubled over and gasping for air.

"o-oh my g-god." She hiccupped and wiped her streaming eyes- she was crying again, yet somehow Joker had managed to make her laugh-cry in the midst of everything, in the middle of a battlefield.

"Y'see," Joker smiled too, his eyes flashing. He lifted her chin lightly and tapped his index finger against her chin, "I told you, drool, what a disgusting unlovable beast you are."

In all the laughing and crying, Cat had managed to get a decent amount of spit and tears over her chin. "I knew it all along," she giggled. "And they all said it was the homicide."

"Ridiculous, a man can handle a _little_ _murder_."

Cat's laughter faded, and she realised that Joker still had a hand against her jaw and was gazing down at her with an odd expression.

 _And around we go._

Cat sighed, she shook her head weakly, and pushed herself from him with her palms facing outward.

"You're right." Cat struggled to keep her tone even and her face blank. Ultimately, she failed, and was forced to turn her back to hide her glassy eyes. "You _would_ be a nightmare of a husband."

Before he could stop her, before she let herself be stopped, Cat strode past him with her heart in her throat.

 _Holding hands was one thing, flirty banter was another. But it was a slippery slope, like being a recovering alcoholic in a bar, it was a slippery slope back into madness._

* * *

"Crane?" Cat pushed open the front door cautiously. As soon as the room was exposed, a huge chunk of plaster crashed to the floor with a thunderous 'BANG', and a cloud of white dust.

Yvonne's apartment was, if possible, the most 'intact' place in the whole complex. There were no vines trailing the floor and ripping holes through the walls. In fact, most of the furniture was intact, though scattered over the many rooms.

"Somehow," Cherry joined Cat in the doorway, a silver band sparkling on her ring-finger, "This place is creepier than the others. Where's all the 'blaargh'?" She gestured her hands together to indicate explosions and destruction.

"Where's Crane?" Cat asked quietly. She took a nervous step into the dark corridor. Dark green vines ran over their heads, spidering over the ceiling like dark and hairy veins. The two men trailed them into the apartment with guns raised.

"I don't want to add to the creepiness or anything," Cherry gestured up to the ceiling, "But do those vines seem to be…leading somewhere?"

Cat too glanced up and hummed in agreement. She elbowed Cherry gently and beckoned for her to follow Cat into the dining room. As they took slow, deliberate steps forward, Cherry felt the need to fill the eerie silence with spurts of whispered conversation.

"Y'know, I've been thinking about Crane and Yvonne," Cherry hissed and ducked under a particularly low-hanging vine, "You don't think it's awfully convenient that Yvonne stole the formula and Crane got out alive? I mean, just consider, if _someone_ wanted to destroy you, there's no better way to do it then to burn the people closest to you."

Cat exhaled through her nose. She turned into the spare bedroom, swiping a tendril-like vine beside her face. "You think this is all some obscure plot to destroy me?" She asked distractedly. "We both know it'd take a lot more than that."

Cherry shrugged slightly. "I do think that you're not giving it enough thought though. Crane's kinda a bad guy, I think you're too soft on him."

Cat stopped in her tracks to stare across at Cherry, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You're calling _Crane_ bad?" She shook her head. "I honestly think that people are more afraid of me."

Cherry merely shrugged again and started forwards. The vines above them were growing denser now, connecting with vines from other rooms and forming a single, thick, trail. "Nah, you're pretty chill," she glanced over at Cat with a sideways grin, "I mean, for an ex-serial killer."

Cat laughed softly and turned again, until the corridor opened up into the windowed-living room. All the vines conjugated from all over the apartment to a single spot on the ceiling. A great and terrible mass of twisted green ropes, intertwining, fighting for dominance over the white plaster. Cherry stopped, a squeak of distress echoing from the back of her throat. Her brown eyes were cemented to the centre of the living room, and to the funnel of leafy veins.

"What-" Cat too glanced over and focused her gaze. From the doorway to the living room, it was fairly difficult to see anything due to the lack of light. But Cat could see that it wasn't just vines hanging and trailing from the ceiling.

A torso. Two limp arms. A dark shape on top, crooked and lifeless.

His feet were barely brushing the white plush rug, still wearing smart dress shoes. His eyes…were so open.

And he was just swaying gently, side-to-side, almost peacefully.

"Crane?!"

Cat was frozen in place, like an iron chain had been tied to her ankles and bolted to the floor. She hadn't cried out; her throat was far too dry to make a sound- it must've been Cherry's distressed voice.

 _Dead_.

Cat tried to comprehend what she was looking at. More importantly, what was looking at _her_.

 _Johnathan Crane is dead._

A thick vine was wrapped six times around his neck, and he was hung from the ceiling in such a distasteful way; it really did look like he had hung himself. Perhaps there was some sick logic behind that, some revolting humour.

 _'Look here; such an intelligent, cunning man. Look what I can make him do.'_

Douglass and Joker entered the room behind them, and sounds of distress and shock were exchanged like clockwork.

"It was Yvonne, it must've been."

"Jesus Christ."

"What do we do now?"

"I-I think," Cat swallowed and hugged her arms to her chest, trying to stabilize her quivering, "I think we should c-cut him down. I need someone to…to lift him, so I can cut the vine without him falling."

Joker stepped forward without a word.

The two of them struggled for a while, as Crane wasn't particularly light and the task, being what it was, required Cat to show a lot more bravery than she felt. Finally, he was freed from the tangled mess of vines and leaves, and Joker set him down carefully on the white rug.

"I gotta be honest," Joker huffed and wiped his hands on his pants, slowly stretching out his back, "I wasn't exactly his 'biggest fan'." He added exaggerated air quotations, in case Cat missed the sarcasm.

"Maybe not," Cat managed in a quiet voice, "but you don't need to like someone, in order to respect them. Say what you like about Crane, but he wasn't stupid or weak. But look. Just _look_ at what Yvonne did."

"He threatened you." Joker added simply, as if this phrase justified Crane's demise.

"Compared to what you've done?" Cat narrowed her eyes at him menacingly. "That's like a trip to Disneyland."

The four of them left the apartment in absolute silence. Cat called the police to notify them of a number of corpses, and then headed off in search of the nearest bar. In reality, it seemed to be a fairly normal reaction to cutting a man loose from a hanging vine.

The entire street down from Yvonne's apartment was completely deserted. Houses were left unlocked in a hurry, stores and restaurants still had lights and music playing; it was like a post-apocalyptic film.

They turned into the nearest bar; a small building with a low-hanging ceiling, and yellow fairy lights wrapped tightly around the front sign.

Cat immediately served herself a glass of vodka, and downed it like it was water. A large flatscreen tv was attached to the brick wall, and Cherry had settled herself in a plush red couch to watch it.

"Mass panic induced as thousands flee a small street in down town Gotham," A suited News reporter announced, as photographs of Yvonne's obliterated apartment were projected behind him, "There have been three confirmed dead already, and police have yet to investigate the source. Though, we hear that this may be linked with a recent attack on a Gotham Asylum. Where two armed perpetrators broke in and shot and killed more than 35 staff members, unfortunately security tapes where expertly wiped and no witnesses were left alive."

The camera then cut to a smartly dressed woman standing out the front of a large, white building surrounded by amber-coloured security tape.

"Thank you, Jim," She nodded and gestured behind her, "As you can see, Arkham Asylum is once again the victim of a terrible mass shooting. It has only been 15 months since the last attack, where a dangerous criminal was freed, and yet there seems to be no end to the violence."

The news anchor leaned forward in his chair and inquired in an authoritative voice, "Could this be the return of the infamous criminal, The Joker?"

"That is not confirmed yet," she replied, "Though, experts are saying that it is highly unlikely that the shooting at the Asylum, and the attack on the apartment-complex is related. The number of inconsistencies in the case is too prominent. It is, instead, very likely that a new threat has risen in Gotham, and all citizens are advised to follow the recommended curfew and stay away from populated areas while the investigation is underway."

"Thank you for the report Meghan," Jim straitened his papers, and leaned back casually in his office chair, "And now, sporting news- "

The television screen flickered to black, as Cherry held up the remote with a scowl.

"Oh sure, sure," she grumbled quietly, "Mass panic? Let's cover more of the story, I'm sure that will calm everyone down."

Cat sighed and stared down into her empty glass. In her reflection, her hair was a tangled mess of plaster and leaves, her mascara was smudged heavily under her eyes, her red shirt was more grey-stained than actually red.

 _When was the last time she actually looked decent?_

Cherry was still droning on about the flaws in Media representation of terrorism, but only a single idea managed to catch Cat's attention.

"-Terrorists aren't just the enemies of heroes and humanitarians," Cherry said quickly, "they're enemies with the 'Free-world' as a whole. I mean, even people like us don't want Gotham obliterated into chunks of concrete and glass and vines. We're some of the fuckers who live here, and I think we wanna keep doing that."

 _Wait_.

Cat froze, her fourth glass of vodka mid-way to her lips. Cherry's voice faded out into white noise, the bar around Cat melted into a shapeless mass of brick and fluorescent lighting.

Her mind was whirring, faster than she could process.

 _Terrorists aren't just the enemies of heroes._

Going up against Yvonne had seemed entirely impossible. That was why the League had retired to the closest supply of alcohol, and failed to dictate an actual plan of attack. Because, no one wanted to say "going to our deaths" out loud.

But Cat was desperately -probably stupidly- piecing together a vague and dangerous scheme.

 _This….this doesn't have to be a suicide mission. Not for all of us._

Without another word, Cat reached into the pocket of her pants and fished out her cell phone. She only knew one number, one way to reach them; but she prayed that that would be enough.

Meanwhile, across the bar, Joker and Douglass were standing next to each other with a drink in hand. They looked as tired and defeated as Cat did.

"Yvonne, huh?" Joker said casually, holding his glass to his lips. "If I'd known she was going to be so much trouble, I would've just killed her when we met."

"I don't doubt it." Douglass replied instantly. This reply caused Joker to lower his drink, and send him a quizzical frown.

"What?" He asked. "Aren't you glad to be working with me again?"

Douglass laughed curtly. He leaned forwards with a smirk, his forearms resting against the bar top. "I'm not working with you, I'm working with them." He lifted his glass, gesturing to the two girls who were caught in quiet conversation. "You might have Cat fooled, or whatever, but I'd sooner kill you then trust you."

Joker nodded, "That's fair." He said with a slight shrug. "But what do you mean by 'fooled'?"

Douglass coughed into his drink sarcastically. "C'mon man, look at you. This isn't you. Hand holding? Rings? I don't believe in change, I don't believe that you've 'turned over a new leaf.' You're mad, and you always will be."

Joker hummed in thought. He was running a hand through his short curls of hair, and seemed to be deliberating Douglass' statement heavily. "Y'know what I think," he said after a moment, pointing his index finger at Douglass, "I think that you're so obsessed with redemption, you've convinced yourself that you're a good man."

It wasn't an accusation, or an attack meant to rile him up. Joker was merely voicing his thoughts aloud, but that didn't mean that Douglass didn't clench his jaw or dig his nails into his palm.

"Did I hit the nail on the head, _Dougy-boy_? Now, you call me 'mad'," Joker mocked his low voice, and did a fair impersonation, "You call me such mean things, and I wonder what you're base of comparison is."

"Try years of working with you." Douglass retorted with a cold scowl. "You were a serial killer. You didn't care, you didn't help, and you certainly didn't let yourself be domesticated by a woman."

"Alright, that's fair," Joker nodded again, "Over here, I'm 'mad'," he gestured with his right hand, again making fun of Douglass' use of the word, "and here, I'm -what was it? - Domesticated." He held up his left, indicating two different points in time.

"Now, which came first?" He began to hover one palm over the other, switching their positions. "Can you be so sure? Which one was first?"

Douglass watched Joker's hands creating circles and spirals. He shrugged and swallowed another mouthful of alcohol. "It's like the 'chicken and the egg'." He said with a splash of humour. Joker's face broke into a smile.

"Exactly," He ran a tongue excitedly over his scarred bottom lip, "It's true, I had a plan for Caterina. And it's also true that it didn't go exactly to plan."

"She got to you first." Douglass offered in a low voice. Joker didn't reply, instead, he sighed through his nose and reached for the bottle of alcohol to fill up his empty glass.

"Another thing I'm gonna teach you," he retorted casually, the golden liquid filling up his glass with gentle splashing sounds, "Is about dominance and submission, and not the 'fun kind', the real kind." Joker added this last statement with a quick smirk. Douglass raised his eyebrows exasperatedly, but made no noise of objection, so Joker continued. "I thought I was manipulating Cat, twisting her mind, breaking her; but, y'know, this is where we are now. So, I guess it comes to this; Submission is loud, dominance is quiet. It's often the opposite to what you expect."

He paused, and glanced down again in thought. Then, after a moment, he looked up with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his lips. "I guess that kinda does work for the 'fun kind', doesn't it?"

This time, it was Douglass' turn to fall silent. They stood side-by-side, drinking, and eyes strained forwards. The two men had somehow managed to reach a state of confused harmony, where both had delivered personal attacks and failed to phase one another.

"Y'know," Douglass' top lip quirked upwards, "when this is all over, I'll kill you."

"I look forward to it." Joker held up his glass, a gesture of mock-toasting, before mirroring Douglass' smirk. "I don't know how the Missus would feel about it though. Doesn't she think you're…y'know…a 'cherub of goodwill'?"

There was the slightest movement in Douglass' shoulder that conveyed a momentary discomfort. But, he managed to regain his composure quickly, and instead laughed coldly into his glass. "Maybe you're right about one thing," he commented lightly, "I have convinced someone that I'm a good man-." He then leaned forwards, closing the distance between them and hovering a few inches in front of Joker's face. He bared his teeth, eyes flashing, before continuing in a dangerously low voice,

"- _But don't think, for one goddamn second, that it's myself_."

If Joker was going to reply, he wasn't given the opportunity. Cat leaned against the bar to his right, and Douglass' menacing expression faded to a handsome smile. "Hello Miss Morgan- all good?" He brightened his tone easily; too easily.

' _More than meets the eye,_ ' Joker decided, ' _He might actually be the one to kill me_ … _how unexpected._ '

"Yeah, all good." Cat replied quietly, she obviously had more on her mind. "I've….well, I've done something; it may either be the best or worst decision of my life."

And taking into account the fact that Cat was a serial killer who actually made decisions constantly to end someone's life; both Joker and Douglass appeared justifiably alarmed.

"Sugar, Sweetheart, Pumpkin," Joker addressed her with a number of stupid nicknames, "Light of my Life, Crunchy Potato Chip- Y'know I support any decision you make."

"Well, this'll be the ultimate test then." Cat sighed. Joker's obvious and pitiful flirting had no effect on her. That, or she was offended at being called a 'potato chip'.

"What exactly could you possibly have-" Joker stopped abruptly, the remainder of the sentence was caught in his throat. He was staring past Cat and Douglass, past Cherry who was still draped over the couch; his gaze was fixed on the bar's front doors.

He made a squeak of alarm, the sound echoing in the sudden and uncomfortable silence.

Cat too turned her head to regard the entrance. Sure enough, a tall figure was standing broodily in the doorway.

It was the first time that Cat had seen Joker speechless. The deranged criminal was frozen in place, as if preparing to run away at any moment. His hands were clenched, a forgotten glass of alcohol on the bar top. Cat noticed a small twinge in the man's shoulders; he was actually shaking in fear.

"Holy fucking hell." Joker breathed. "Cat…. _what have you done_?"


End file.
